


Just An Observation

by themeeg



Series: In Every Way I Know. [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, Isaac Lahey - Freeform, Lydia is a bro, M/M, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Scisaac - Freeform, Slow Build, Wolf Pack, lydia martin - Freeform, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-27
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-17 03:19:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themeeg/pseuds/themeeg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isaac has no idea how how he ended up here. Lydia is far more observant than anyone gives her credit for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fic Prompt from Counterintuitivefangirl.
> 
> Exploring a friendship between Lydia and Isaac. Set post-season 2.

It’s an hour before Isaac gathered the courage up to say anything. Don't get him wrong, there is conversation, Lydia's cheerful commentary as she leads them around the mall, his quiet with increasingly bewildered agreements. There is no silence, its' a constant hour of other people milling around, heartbeats a symphony around him.

 

Slowly he's getting loaded up with shopping bags as Lydia coos in appreciation of some shiny object and scampers off to the next store. Isaac gives a resigned sigh and follows her; she’s seated in a shoe store, buckling up a strappy pair of heels that look exactly like the last ten pairs she’s tried on in the last ten stores. Isaac shifts a little switching the bags from his right hand to his left and tries to think of the best way to phrase his question, the tension is beginning to get to him. He feels like he is hanging, suspended by a string, fraying, waiting for the punch line. In the end she cuts him off before he can even ask why on earth he of all people is her sudden shopping companion.

 

“Why-”

 

“Alison's busy,” Lydia interrupts, not looking up at him. She goes to the mirror and swivels gracefully, admiring the hazardously high heels. Isaac feels the sink of disappointment and shrugs, it's not surprising really. Everyone else is busy, he's a last choice, and it makes sense. He has had to come to terms with the fact he is not the first choice for anyone in the pack. Jackson and Danny paired off, Scott and Stiles are thick as thieves and Alison and Lydia, as the only girls in the group have started spending almost all their time together. Derek, as the alpha doesn't hang with anyone if he can help it, but then again, that's also a Derek thing. Though it makes him feel rather pathetic and needy, Isaac is honestly just glad for the company.

 

He watches in silence as she hums affirmatively slipping off the heels and pads to the counter to pay for them, handing the bag over to him once they're paid for. She flounces back out to the mall, Isaac close behind. He watches, slightly transfixed as she pivots slightly on the balls of her feet, fingers tapping full lips as she contemplates which store to go to next. Seeing something that catches her fancy she swings off to the left. He catches up to her in a few strides, when she stops to covet something shiny in the jeweller’s window. She doesn't look at him, but slips a hand through the crook of his arms and sets off again; he is helpless to do anything but follow.

 

Her small hand feels hot enough to burn him on the bare skin of his arm, he can feel her pulse through the points of her fingers, the smell of her hair and perfume; this closeness is overwhelming. Not in an unpleasant way, it cuts through the haze of the crowd, the stench and clamour that is thrown up by the people who brush by them. He takes a deep breath centring himself, she smells sweet, sort of like strawberries and some kind of soap, he thinks he might like it.

 

“It's not the only reason you know.” she murmurs to him. He turns to stare and is levelled with the full force of her gaze. It almost knocks the air right out of him, her eyes are so blue and her gaze sharp and intelligent as if she can see right through to the core of him.

 

“Hmmm?” he hears himself say. Intelligent Isaac, really.

 

“I didn't just bring you here because the others were busy,” she confesses. He raises an eyebrow and can't help but smirk, she slaps him on the bicep. “No!” she chides, “Nothing like that!”

 

He can't help but chuckle, ducking his head.

 

“Besides, if I was trying to sleep with you, you would know,” she smirks, “and you would be naked,” she purrs. This time he can’t help but throw his head back and let out a full blown laugh, one that come right from his belly. She watches him with a sly grin on her face. When he has managed to contain himself she sniffs, wiping an imaginary tear from the corner of her eye.

 

“I don't chase people who are sold on someone else anyway,” she said softly. His head snaps around to look at her so quickly it almost hurts mouth falling open.

 

“What?” He runs the hand not weighed down with bags quickly through his mess of hair. A gives a faint chuckle and crinkles his nose. “I'm not sold on anyone,” he assures her, his voice far more sure than he feels.

 

She gives him that searching look again that quickly turns to one of pity. Her mouth forms a perfect pink cherry lip glass stained 'o' shape, “Oh honey,” she whispers, “you don't know.”

 

He decides then and there he never wants to have someone look at him like that again. It makes him feel ill. He lengthens his stride and breaks away from her hold on his arm. Stalking over to the nearest shop window he pretends to be riveted by whatever it was they were selling. He takes the moment to try to get his breathing, which at some point turned into desperate gasps, under control. His heart beat is so loud in his head he could not have recalled what was in that window to save himself. He is not sold on anyone. He does not need anyone.

 

The pack thing is nice, a convenience, but he is fine on his own. He definitely has not been watching anyone more than usual out of the corner of his eye. Nope. Not him. He sways forward, until his forehead is resting against the cold glass, hands white knuckled around the bags. He can feel the looks of passersby weighing down on him, can almost feel their eyes burning through his back. It only takes a moment before Lydia is there, her perfume wafting past him before he feels her smaller, warm presence by his side. She leans in close until they are touching shoulder to shoulder and gives him a small bump with her hip.

 

“You'll figure it out,” she assures him.

 

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, grits his teeth. Still teeth, not fangs. Good. “Why did you bring me?” he grinds out. He can almost hear her roll her eyes. When he turns to look at her, her lips are pursed, she looks much prettier when she smiles.

 

“You don't fit well with the pack,” she observes. The growl is out of his mouth before he can stop it.  
“It wasn't an insult. It's just something I've noticed,” she gives him a weak smile. “It's ok though. I don't fit right either”

 

“You fit fine” he says.

 

“No. I really don't,” she tells him bluntly, “but it's ok. It's new. I'll give it time... I had just noticed, that maybe you feel the same.”

 

It strikes him that no one really gives Lydia enough credit; they forget how clever, how observant she is. She's slipped her hand back into the crook of his arm, he does not pull away. 

 

“After Erica...and Boyd” he confesses. She nods her understanding. After the two had left the pack, he had felt separate somehow. The two he was turned with, the two he felt like family. Gone.

 

“The others, Scott and Jackson and Danny, they aren't as touchy with you” Lydia points out.  
Isaac nods. Touch is a huge part of bonding within the pack, scent marking, makes you feel like pack. Nothing sexual, just play fighting, hugs, laying sprawled out next to each other after training. The others don't touch him.

 

“I,” he hesitates then sighs “...I don't really like being touched.” Lydia goes to pull her hand back as if she's been burned. Quicker than she can move he places his hand over the top of hers on his arm, pinning it there. “No, no, don't. This is fine.” he assures her, holding her gaze. “This? This is good. Nice.” After an assessing moment he can visibly see the moment she believes him and relaxes in his hold. When he takes his hand away to run through his hair her smaller one stays in the crease of his arm.

 

“Is it because of...” she lets her question trail off into nothing, he knows what she meant.

 

“My dad?” he shrugs “maybe, I don't know.” He can't help it anytime a hand lands on his shoulder he flinches, a pat on the back makes him cringe. Any touch he doesn't see coming. He doesn't mean to, it hurts to watch the flicker of pain in his pack mate’s eyes when he flinches away from them. They stopped trying pretty quickly, for both their sakes.

 

“Erica and Boyd got it though, didn't they?”

 

“Yeah,” he lets out a slow, long huff. “They did”

 

She looks as if she is going to bump him with her hip again, but thinks better of it; instead she gives his arm another light squeeze, then pulls him back out into the sway of the crowd. “Don't worry” She assures him “We'll figure it out.” He follows her, feeling a little more at peace.


	2. A Push In The Right Direction.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stile's has managed to convince Derek the pack needs a bonding night. It goes just as well as can be expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So pack antics! Slow build Scisaac, strap in.

It's movie night with the pack, something Stiles has somehow managed to talk Derek into making compulsory for all of them, human and wolf alike. Stiles claims its 'key to bonding' or something. Isaac doesn't know how but Stiles has managed to garner some sort of influence over the Alpha. He doesn't ask. Stiles, using his gift of the gab has also managed to persuade Isaac that using his house as the base for movie nights is a good idea. Admittedly, Isaac had tuned out ten minutes into Stiles rant and hadn't realised what he had agreed to until the next pack meeting, but you know, semantics. Stiles, under all the banter, has a point, Isaac is the only one with a house without nosy parentals who might be suspicious in case of an accidental wolf out. There is the Hale house, but they've only just started renovations and the power is nowhere near connected yet.

 

As soon as the sun is down they turn up, in dribs and drabs, Scott and Stiles turn up together, the thrum of his battered jeep heralding their arrival. Stiles barely waits for the door to open before he is ducking under Isaacs arm to claim the best seat in the lounge. It's beaten old armchair that used to be his fathers, that, despite its appearance is the comfiest piece of furniture to exist, ever. Derek always ends up in the armchair, Stiles knows this, even as he crows claiming it for himself. Scott shoots Isaac an apologetic smile he tries to return and goes to get drinks from the kitchen. Whilst he is fetching sodas he hears Derek arrive, well, he assumes it's Derek. The door slams, there's foot falls then the sound of Stiles squawking as the inevitable happens and Stiles gets booted onto the floor. Isaac can't help but grin. Lydia, Jackson and Danny all arrive together, the boys sprawl around the lounge, Lydia comes into the kitchen, doesn't offer to help but watches with a small smile pulling up the corner of her mouth.

 

He hands out the drinks to everyone. As expected Derek has the armchair, watching over the rest of the pack with a watchful eye, he accepts his drink with a grunt of affirmation, Stiles is sitting on the floor by Derek's knee, currently babbling something about the how it is impossible for Derek to not do some sort of serious man-scaping to have eyebrows that bushy yet defined, Stiles accepts his drink and opens it without pause in his conversation, Derek ignores him with a practiced grace Isaac is a little envious of.

 

Scott sits by Stile's side, watching the banter between human and Alpha with a bemused expression. When Isaac hands him a can Scott beams and Isaac can't help but freeze a little, caught up in all those teeth and the way his face just kind of lights right up. Scotts smile becomes a little concerned after a long moment, then turns downright worried when Isaac doesn't respond. Isaac forces a smile on his face, but going by Scott's concerned look, it is probably more of a grimace. He turns on his heel and head back into the kitchen, going through the motions of popping a bag of corn. He tosses it in a bowl and drops it in Scotts lap on his way to the couch. Judging from the way Scott enthusiastically digs in, Isaac's previous weirdness is forgiven. 

 

Isaac throws himself into his usual corner of the couch, the rest of the pack have left the couch empty, Scott, Stiles and Danny taking spots on the floor to give him space. That suits him just fine until Lydia, returning from the bathroom, with Jackson in tow (he is not even going to ask) plops herself down right next to him, dragging Jackson to sit on her other side. Isaac shifts, uncomfortable, but Lydia pays him no mind. Her scent is strong this close, after their trip to the mall last week he could smell her on his clothes, on his skin for days. He definitely does not think about the fact he will be able to smell her on his skin tonight when he lays in bed. He tried not to think about how the pack can probably smell his panic at his point. Lydia stretches out across the couch, her head in Jacksons lap, and settles her feet delicately in Isaac's. His heart beat kicks it up another notch. It's all he can do not to throw his hands up in the air, as it is he has no idea what to do with his hands, does he rest his hand on her leg? Can he touch her? Dear god, what the hell does he usually do with his hands?! He looks wide eyed around the room, and flushes with embarrassment when he realises the whole pack is watching with a air of amusement. Jackson snorts, the smug bastard and Isaac quickly puts one hand on the couch arm, the over the back of the couch, as far away from uncomfortable, 'am I allowed to touch here/ am I not' areas and tries to play it cool.

 

Lydia diffuses the situation when Stiles jumps up to put the dvd in the player.  
“Stiles. No!' she barks, pointing one perfectly manicured finger. Stiles freezes “I don't care how much you love Bruce Willis ,we are not watching Die Hard again'

“It's not Die Hard!' Stiles protests, holding the offending dvd case up in front of him “It's Die Hard 2! It's a completely different movie!” Lydia levels him with a scathing look, Stiles attempts puppy eyes to no avail.

“Stilinski. Pick. Something. Else” She says, a warning tone in her voice. Stiles pouts but selects something else, pushes it into the player and the team settles in to watch...

“Bad Boys 2 Stiles? Really?' Lydia chides, Derek is trying very hard to keep his Alpha game face aka 'Mr-I-only-feel-two-emotions-brooding-and-rage' on and hides his smirk behind his hand. Stiles scuttles back to safety by Scott and Derek where Lydia can't reach him. All the while lamenting the packs terrible taste in film. Danny calls up the dvd and switches off the lights and the pack all fall into silence to watch the movie. Isaac can see out of the corner of his eye, Jackson's twisting strands of Lydia's hair between his fingers, it falls like silk. Isaac wants to rub circles around the delicate bones of Lydia's bare ankles her pale skin thin over the bones but he keeps his hands with their death grip on the couch arms. He feels Lydia stir and she turns to look up at him, searching his expression for something in the gloom. 

 

She mouths 'You ok?' at him and he gives her a brief nod before turning his attention back to the movie, or at least pretending to. He can sense her stare for a long time before she to turns back to the screen. They're about halfway through the movie, there are a lot of explosions when Isaac feels a little of the tension seep out of him. Lydia must sense it too because she decides to start pushing buttons again. 

 

“McCall! Stop hogging the popcorn” She reaches out with one hand, making grabby fingers at the bowl of snacks. Scott chuckles and shuffles over closer to her so he is sitting on the floor next to Jackson and offers Lydia the bowl. She takes a handful and starts to munch on them, Scott turns back to the movie only to be poked in the back of the head by Lydia a moment later. 

 

“You're in my way now” she laments. Scott shuffles to the right, but Jackson nudges him back with his foot.

“Now you're blocking me McCall” 

Scott gives a put upon sigh and shuffles further away from Jackson, across Lydia's eye line until he is sitting closer to Isaac, almost....almost with his shoulder resting against Isaacs knees. Scott gives Isaac a dubious look over his shoulder, questioning, testing. Isaac manages to give him a quirk, just half a smile. In return Scott gives him one of those bright grins, and pushes back before turning back to he movie and slouching down against the couch. Isaac is so close to him, can feel the warmth off him. Warmer than Lydia, as all werewolves are. Where Lydia smells sweet, her soap and strawberries, Scott smells like the woods, the earth, and the smell right before it rains and somewhere under all that Scott just smells like pack. 

 

Both of their scents are so strong, mingling with the fainter ones of the rest of the pack and it's making him feel slightly euphoric. It's dizzying, this is the closest he has been with any of the pack since Erica and Boyd left and he feels the sudden, desperate urge to bridge the gap, that few scant inches that feels like a mile. He stares at it for a while, considering, it's just a few inches, it's not that hard. Lydia pokes him in the thigh with her toes. He wonders if she is maybe a little bit psychic. Isaac shifts a little, spreads his leg so it bumps up against Scotts shoulder. Scott, loveable, friendly, tactile Scott thinks nothing of it, doesn't even blink or look up from the movie, just sags a little more over to the side, resting some of his weight against Isaacs legs. Isaac can't help the grin that slowly spreads across his face, or the undeniable smell of smug radiating of Lydia, but he sits there, with his pack. 

Possibly, maybe, eventually, he will call the people laying across his lap, leaning on his legs, scattered around the room, his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More to come soon :)


	3. One Step Forward, Two Steps Back.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac makes progress. Derek is surprisingly good at comforting people. Scott is nowhere near as stupid as people seem to think he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who left kudos and comments! You are all lovely. This chapter has the first hints of Scisaac, Sterek and Lydia/Jackson. Warning for descriptions of Panic attacks if that's something that triggers you. 
> 
> This chapter is long, gosh this story has just taken on a life of it's own.

Renovations at the burnt out shell of the Hale house has become a pack activity. Derek had said it's because eventually it will be the pack base and they should all have some input into how the new mansion comes together, Stiles says it's because they're free labor with no union and Derek is totally taking advantage. Stiles snarks with a grin on his face and doesn't put up too much of a fuss when it comes to crunch time, especially when it turns out Derek does twice the amount of work than the rest of them put together anyway.

 

It's a warm summers day and the whole pack is crammed inside the Hale living area, stripped down to singlets and shorts, wielding paint brushes and fresh cans of paint. Derek had gotten contractors in over the last few months and there is finally a roof and four walls to the living room.

 

Everyone is glad to see a little bit of life being breathed back into the house, and with it a little bit of life back into Derek. It had been worrisome, having their Alpha living in a house that smelled like so much Death that it had started sinking into his bones. It had set them all on edge having Derek constantly smell of burnt, dead wolf that Scott (who had drawn the short straw) had taken Derek aside to ask if maybe he should have the place torn down. Derek had objected (vehemently, Scott had come over to play video games for a few hours to avoid going home with a black eye) but he had called the contractors the next morning. These days the house smells more of the pack, mixed with new wood, hard work and the lingering smell of sunshine people traipsed into the floorboards. The smell of sorrow is still there, but it just isn't as pungent anymore. Isaac wonders if Derek feels bad that it is slowly being covered up, or if he reasons that restoring the house would honour some of the family he had so tragically lost. 

 

Many an afternoon, especially after school is out, pack members wonder out to the Hale property. Most of the time to find Derek working alongside the builders, lending his strength, quiet, stoic, getting what needs to be finished done with minimum fuss. Isaac thinks maybe he finds some measure of peace in having a physical activity to throw himself into. He can't help but hope that Derek will not have to be so sad if he doesn't imagine he owes the house anything anymore. One of the builders had commented Derek was always started before they even got there and Isaac knew he continued well into the night, long after the construction crew and the rest of the pack had left. 

 

Some members of the pack (read: Isaac, Danny and on one very memorable occasion Jackson) would join him, completing whatever simple jobs they could. Others, like Stiles and Lydia (who everyone agreed should not be given power tools again under any circumstances) would sit and chat with them, bringing snacks and refreshments and taking it on themselves to become the interior designers for the new house. Frequently over summer Stiles could be seen flailing around the house with an armful of paint swatches, buzzing with energy, talking a mile a minute to Lydia who would be looking very thoughtfully between two selections of something like 'egg shell' and 'cream' as if it was the most complex decision in the world. Isaac would sort of just stare in bewilderment when she asked his opinion. He confessed to Derek later when he went to take him a bottle of water, that they all looked exactly the same. Derek just wiped the sweat from his eyes with his forearm and gave Isaac a smirk and admitted he didn't get it either and it was probably for the best to just humour them. Isaac quietly agreed, last time the two had gotten bored they had taken it upon themselves to try and pull up the tiles from the upstairs bathroom. Stiles had fallen through the floor and had been stuck with his legs hanging out of the kitchen roof for almost two hours. Lydia had gotten a ladder and painted his toenails blue.

 

They'd managed to settle on a colour called 'Cream Ilk' for the lounge. There had been debate over the choice the whole week. Stiles pretended to take the fact they had gone with Lydia's choice very personally, however Isaac knew for a fact Stiles just picked out the paints with names he found amusing and tried to pass them off as a serious choice. Every colour Stiles had suggested had gotten increasingly bizarre, but he would approach Derek each time and say with a serious, thoughtful expression; 

 

“Derek, what do you think of this one? For the bathroom. It's called 'Dorian Grey'. No? How about this one? It's called 'Broody'”

 

Derek would just sort of glare at the two choices as if they had done something to personally offend him, eyes darting between Stiles and the paint swatch, totally oblivious to the fact Stiles was pulling his metaphorical pigtails. That was until the day Stiles suggested 'Orange you glad you're in America'. Derek had huffed, and cuffed him around the back of the head, Stiles finally broke down into hysterical giggles and ran back off to join Lydia. Derek watched him scuttle off with a fond expression before turning to a bemused Isaac who was watching with a raised eyebrow. Derek coughed, put his frowny alpha face back on and levelled Isaac with a look that almost screamed 'Don't you start', Isaac chuckled, shrugged a shoulder and turned back to his work. 

 

So today, eventually, they find themselves all standing hands on hips, thoughtfully staring at the bare walls. Minutes tick by, Lydia tilts her head, 

“Feels as if someone should say something almost.”

“Big occasion” Scott mused, “Once we're done this room will be finished. First room of the new house”  
Stiles grins, spreading his arms,

“So, who wants to say a few words? Break a bottle of champagne on this baby?”

 

Jackson scoffs and switches his brush out for a larger roller. Isaac grins when he hears 'Compensating' hiss from the corner of Stile's mouth. 

 

“You are being unnecessarily sentimental" Derek informs them all and cracks a paint tin open with a claw, stirs, dunks his brush in and then draws the brush across the wall with one smooth stroke. The betas and humans admire the splash of colour for a moment. Lydia gives a sort of contented hum.

 

“It's started now. Go on! Get to work!” Derek orders with a 'hurry up' gesture and like that, with huffs of laughter and a flurry of movement everyone is set into motion. Stiles has pulled an old radio from somewhere and they fall into a quiet routine, moving around each others, Stiles sings quietly under his breath to the music.

 

It's nice, surrounded by the smell of the pack. _His_ pack, and yes, he is finally starting to think of them as his own. It's taken months, he still doesn't fit as well as Scott or even Jackson but he's working on it. Even the humans seems to fit here now, Lydia and Danny have been spending so much time with the wolves they too carry the pack scent. It makes Isaac's wolf happy to have them all in the one room, in a possessive kind of way. Even just doing mundane work, it feels right. He can sense the same sentiment rising of the other wolves too, not so much Jackson, but then again he's a prickly asshole, so no surprises there.

 

They get to painting, in comfortable silence with nothing but the music from the radio washing over them. Hours pass, when the sun is hitting the horizon Derek disappears to the kitchen to order take out. It's become a _thing_ of Derek's when they're together, he feeds them, nothing fancy usually, chinese or pizza. It seems to appeal to the alpha side of Derek to provide for the pack and the others won't argue with free food. However when the alpha is away...

 

Stiles is the one who starts it, flicks his brush at Scott, who ducks and the paint splatter hits Lydia right across the front of her shirt. She gapes down at it for a moment, shock on her face as Stiles reaches out as if to try and wipe it off before thinking better of what would essentially be fondling her chest. Stiles is in the middle of apologising profusely when Lydia grins, mischievous and whacks him with her brush. Stiles laughs and flicks back, this time it splatters right across Lydia, Jackson and Danny. Just like that, it's on. 

 

The pack falls into screams and giggles, chasing each other round the lounge, flicking their brushes at each other, it's a mercy the floor and furniture are all covered with sheets or the room would be ruined. Isaac is content to just stay in the corner, stitch in his side from laughing as Lydia and Scott chase Stiles around the room, Danny and Jackson are wrestling on the floor trying to get paint in each others hair. It's probably a little unfair seeing as Jackson has supernatural strength on his side, but Danny is either holding his own, or Jackson is going easy on him. Isaac can barely gasp in enough air, he's cackling so hard as Scott finally catches Stiles and jumps him, pining him down so Lydia can put paint all over his face. Stiles screams as if he's being murdered, calling out for someone to help him. There is no chance Derek hasn't heard them carrying on from the kitchen, but seeing as he hasn't busted in ready to put the smack down on someone he can hear the laughter in their voices and is letting it continue. Isaac goes to join Lydia in ganging up on Stiles, considering adding a moustache to Lydia's masterpiece when Jackson jumps up, victorious from his wrestle with Danny, throws his arm around Isaac's shoulders and pulls him into a headlock. 

 

It feels like he has been dunked in ice water, a litany of _nonononononononononononono_ stuck in his throat as he clutches at the arm around his throat, clawing. He can't breath and all he can hear is his father's voice in his ears. _You're going straight in the basement you little shit._ He can't breathe. Can't breathe. He's gasping air like a fish out of water. The air around him is suddenly so thick, like molasses and he can't draw it in. His lungs are on fire. The basement is waiting for him. The last time his father had dragged him down there by his hair. He can't breathe. He's on fire. He scrabbles for purchase, tries to pull away. He had spent twenty four hours locked in the box down there. He can't breath. Breath. Fire. He's-It's pitch black down there and he can't breathe down there and no matter how hard he screams no one ever comes. And it's dark and it's dark and it's dark....

 

The next thing he knows he's curled up in the corner, Derek is in front of him, growling softly for the rest of the pack to stay back. The Alpha's growl soothes his wolf, whose hackles are raised, on edge. It's threatening but also the promise of protection. The pack are here and there is light and air and he can breath. He can. He can breathe. Needs to breath. He realises Derek is calling out his name, the alpha's been talking, is crouched in front of him, arm reached out as if Isaac is an animal he might spook if he moves too fast. Which, a small part of him muses, might be quite apt.

 

When he focuses on the words, Derek is ordering him to breathe, in a tone that brokers no argument. Just inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. Derek talks him through it, his gruff voice softer than Isaac has ever heard it before. He wonders for a moment who Derek has talked through panic attacks before, this is obviously not his first experience. 

 

Derek's heart beat is steady, he smells calm, and his low voice is something Isaac can anchor himself to and try to drag himself back to the surface. He managed to gulp in few deep breaths, following the Alpha's lead. Slowly the fire in his chest is extinguished, the white edging his vision recedes. Isaac's overwhelming sense of panic is quickly shifting to one of mortification. The whole pack is looking at him as if he is some poor broken thing and the smell of their pity is nauseating. Well done Isaac, another pack bonding session ruined. Couldn't keep a lid on his neurosis for the few seconds it would have taken to tell Jackson to piss off. Jesus. The pity smell is cloying, overly sweet and it burns his nose. So strong, even over the scent of peace Derek is radiating. He screws his eyes shut as if when he opens them this will all be one horrible embarrassing dream. The rest of the pack hasn't said anything yet, he can't bring himself to even look at them. Derek reaches out to touch his shoulder.

 

Before Isaac even realises what he is doing, he is on his feet, brushing Derek off. Something he would never usually be game to do, and Derek would not allow. He does not let himself think about it, what the consequences of disrespecting the alpha will be later. He staggers out of the house, slams the front door and take off at a sprint towards the woods. Derek, who vastly overpowers him physically, and has the ability to stop him with a command, lets him go.

 

 

**********************************************************************************************

 

 

  

Lydia misses most of what happens as she is busy painting pretty cat whiskers across Stiles's face. Scott is straddling his waist, pining his hands down as Stiles alternates between cursing both of them, their families, the horse they rode in on and pleading for mercy. He's so dramatic. Lydia just grins and amuses herself, adds a cute kitty nose to her creation and informs Stiles he now fits right in with the furrier members of the pack . She hears the bubbling sound of Jackson's laughter, then a ragged gasp of air before Isaac starts stuttering, no, not stuttering, begging;  


 

 

 __  
"Nononononopleasenononononono"  


 

 

The tone of his voice causes all of them to freeze, it's nothing like Stile's pleas, which are bright and full of laughter but desperate and broken and so soaked in terror.

 

 

Scott is up, quicker than she can even turn her head, but she sees Jackson's face turn from laughter to confusion, as he looks down at Isaac who he has in a headlock. Jackson looks to her and meets her eye with a questioning look even as Scott gets a white knuckled grip on his t-shirt and wrenches him back across the room. Jackson goes flying, staggers, but manages to keep his feet. Isaac has left claw marks where he was scrambling for purchase on Jackson's arm, they sluggishly start to bleed. Isaac stumbles until his back hits the wall, mindless of the wet paint. He sinks to the ground, curling in on himself. Lydia can still hear him whispering 'no' and 'please' over and over. His hands are clutching his head as if to protect from a volley of blows that are not going to come. Not from them, never, ever from them. Lydia has never wanted to take someone in her arms and tell them it will all be ok so much in her life.

 

 

The feel of the room has shifted from play to something far darker. Derek has sensed it too even from the kitchen because he comes skidding to a halt in the doorway, eyes red, claws around his long forgotten mobile and a low growl rumbling in his chest. If possible the wolves all freeze further as Derek takes in what must be a bizarre image before him. Scott stands between Jackson and Isaac, shreds of Jackson's shirt still stuck to his claws, Jackson is staring in horror down at Isaac who is shaking and rocking backwards and forwards, curled up on the floor. Lydia knows there is going to be a conversations about boundaries, personal space and trauma later that she is not looking forward too. Poor Jackson, yet another thing to blame himself for. 

 

 

Stiles is next to her, still on the ground, but propped up on his elbows. Danny has scrambled to his feet and drags Jackson back, away from Isaac, who is shaking and silent, and Scott, whose eyes are golden and furious, his hands flexing. Derek takes a deep breath, and shifts back. With the alpha's shift to human some of the tension drains out of the group. Derek seems to be making a visible effort to radiate calm, she wonders what his broadcasting zen smells like to the wolves. Derek looks to all of them, flicking from face to face, cataloging, analysing, she can almost see the cogs moving in his head.

 

 

“Stiles?” Derek growls. Lydia is impressed, as a man of few words, Derek can cram full sentences of meaning into one word. 'Stiles' can, and usually means something like, 'You idiot, stop that before you hurt yourself.' or 'You are not nearly as funny as you think you are, shut up before someone throttles you.' or 'I'm possibly in love with you but am far to macho and stupid to say anything about it' (ok, maybe Lydia made that one up, but it's so true, even if she's the only one who has noticed) but in this instance just means 'Stiles tell me what the hell just happened here'

 

 

"I don't know what happened" Stiles confesses, "We were just messing around and he flipped out." 

 

 

Derek walks slowly over to where Isaac is still curled up, breathing ragged and uneven, hands clutching his hair so hard he is sure to have yanked some of it out. Derek makes sure to broadcast all his movements, takes deliberate steps and keeps his body language non threatening. As non threatening as Derek can be anyway. When he is in front of Isaac he crouches down, reaching out to him.  


 

 

“Isaac?”  


 

 

No response, she does not think Derek was expecting one. Poor Isaac. Poor, poor Isaac. She presses her hand to her lips to keep herself quiet. Last thing Isaac needs is people overwhelming him.

 

 

“Everything is ok Isaac. Look at me please?” Derek's voice is surprisingly gentle “Isaac? Jackson is sorry for upsetting you" Jackson goes to open his mouth, Derek hold up a hand and growls to silence him without even looking in his direction.

 

 

“The pack is here, everything is fine. Your father is dead Isaac. You're with the pack and you're fine” 

 

 

That twists something in Lydia's chest, how awful must his life have been before joining the pack that the knowledge his father is dead is a comfort? She wishes she could take him in her arms and stroke his hair and tell him everything is fine. Derek is getting no indication Isaac is hearing a word he is saying. He starts to layer his voice with some of his Alpha command resonance to it.

 

 

“Isaac. Pay attention, you are having a panic attack. Do you hear me? You need to breathe. Ok? You need to breathe.”

 

 

Isaac eyes dart up for the first time to meet Derek's. Derek gives him a soft smile, inhales slowly and gestures that Isaac should follow him. When Isaac does, Derek nods his approval. Isaac follows Derek's breathing in and out for a few minutes. Lydia finds herself following them too. It's soothing, she's starting to think this might not be the huge step back she had assumed it was. That's when Derek makes his first mistake and reaches out to touch Isaac's shoulder. Isaac scrambles away from him as if burned, and is up on his feet and running out the door before any of them can blink.

 

 

Derek sighs, shoulders sagging. The pack spends a long moment trading glances, Derek puts his hands on his knees and levers himself up. Jackson snatches his arm out of Danny's grasp and stalks out of the room, Derek does not even acknowledge his beta. Lydia watches him go with a sigh. Poor, stupid Jackson. She knows when she tracks him down he is going to be in the throws of a massive snit, Jackson does not handle guilt well. He's not used to having people he cares enough about to worry if he hurts them. Derek gestures at the front door, for the first time looking unsure of what to do.

 

 

“Lydia...Isaac. Will you go after him?”  
Lydia can feel her eyebrows shoot up towards her hairline and she hopes the look she gives Derek tells him exactly how dense she thinks he is.

 

 

“I've got to go....Betadine Jackson's cuts' she lies with a smile. The cuts where superficial, shallow at best, as if Isaac had completely forgotten the strength he had to put behind them. They have probably already healed, but she needs to go and work damage control and she has a better idea for who to send anyway. She waves a hand in McCall's direction.

 

 

“You should send Scott.” 

 

 

Derek opens his mouth, to argue or agree she doesn't know, Scott has already nodded and headed out the door at a trot, putting up less of a fight than she expected. If they are very lucky this night might just be salvageable. Derek grunts and leans down, grabs Stiles by the front of his shirt and yanks him to his feet. Stiles untangles himself with a huff and brushes himself off, waltzing off to find a bathroom, leaving the room with as much dignity as he can muster (for a guy with whiskers painted on his face? Here's a hint, it's not much). Danny smirks and meets Lydia's eye with a knowing look. Derek notices his phone laying forgotten in the middle of the lounge, tinny voice of the pizza guy still screeching. Derek snatches it up and exits the room, phone to ear, ignoring them all. Lydia tries to refrain from rolling her eyes as she goes to find Jackson. The men in her pack are seriously stupid.

 

 

************************************************************************

 

 

He hits the tree line before he realises he has no idea what he is doing or where the hell he plans to go. He stops and flops down boneless beside the nearest tree. The adrenalin is making his hands shake and his knees wobbly. He curls his legs up to his chest, grabbing fist fulls of the soft earth around him. Images of the pack staring at him in disgust keep floating to the forefront of his mind. He had finally started to get somewhere with them, and he ruined it. Like everything. He grits his eyes closes and bangs his head back against the trunk of the tree. Hard. _Thunk._ He pushed Derek. Disrespected Derek. Disrespected the alpha. Paying for that later is not going to be fun. Again. As hard as he can. _Thunk._ Stars burst behind his eyes. He wonders what Derek will make him to. Remembers the way Erica screamed when Derek broke her arm. He wonders if he will scream. _Thunk._ The looks on their faces. The way Lydia gaped at him, the way SCOTT gaped at him. _Thunk._ Poor, pathetic, Isaac their faces say. _Thunk._ POOR. _Thunk._ PATHETIC. _Thunk._ ISA-

 

 

“Jesus christ! What are you doing?!” There is something soft and warm cushioning the back of his crown, his eyes fly open to find Scott right before him, frowning and apprehensive. Their noses are almost touching. Scott's eyes are dark and this close Isaac can see the flecks of gold through them even in his human form. Isaac jerks away, and were it not for Scott's hand resting at the back of his head he would have smashed his skull against the tree again. As it is, the force grinds Scott's hand into the bark. Scott barely winces. Scott releases his head and raises his arms, takes a step back and gives Isaac some space. He crouches down against a nearby tree, and examines his palm. A small amount blood covers his fingertips, Scott rubs his fingers together with a sniff before wiping them off on his shorts. Isaac doesn't bother to rub his head, he can feel the cuts bleeding, but they'll heal. They always do.

 

 

Scott crosses his arms on his curled up knees and rests his chin upon them, contemplating. Isaac shifts, uncomfortable under the weight of his attention. He waits for Scott to say something. He doesn't, just watches. The silence grows and grows. The wind is kicking up and it's carrying Scott's scent towards him. It's pleasant to have something to focus on other than the smell of his own fear and blood. Still, the silence stretches out. Isaac rubs a hand across his face and regards him warily.

 

 

“What are you doing?” he snaps.

 

 

“I'm waiting for you to talk” Scott says simply, Isaac snorts. Scott shrugs “With Stiles you have to wait for him to talk his way around the issue. Eventually he just sort of stumbles onto whatever is bothering him.”  
Scott stops there, just going back to resting his chin on his arms, heart beat slow and steady. Isaac waits for him to continue, grows frustrated when he doesn't.

 

 

“What?!” he growls. He hates himself a little for taking his anger out on Scott, Scott who has always been kind to him. Scott continues as if Isaac had not had his little outburst, or even as if the conversation had not paused at all.

 

 

“Derek is different. He needs someone to fight him. At first I thought he needs a physical fight, and that was why I was getting my ass kicked all the time. I was wrong, after a while I realised that's why Stiles is so important, he's the one who calls Derek on his shit.”  
Isaac sneers, lips curling. 

 

 

“ So, what? This is you 'calling me on my shit?'” he leers, “Really? Fuck you McCall.” Scott blinks and raises an eyebrow. Scott has not been 'McCall' to Isaac for a long while now.

 

 

“No, that isn't what this is” Scott murmurs, ducking his chin.

 

 

'What is this then?” Isaac snarls. His own voice brings him up short, he sounds ...vicious. Like a wounded animal lashing out. He feels a little wounded if he is honest. He tells himself he shouldn't be acting this way. He is responsible for his own damn actions but for some reason he can't seem to stop. Oh well, in for a penny in for a pound.

 

 

“I figure I'll just wait”

 

 

“You'll wait?” his voice is dripping with distain. Seeing as his appalling behaviour doesn't seem likely to stop he tries to reason out his actions in his head. Alienating Scott will means he is less likely to get hurt when Isaac inevitably screws up again. Next time he won't bother chasing after him, he just won't care. Yeah, that's Isaac's excuse and he is sticking to it. 

 

 

“Yup, I'll wait. I was quiet for like....2 minutes before and you were twitching like you had fleas. I reckon I'll just wait, then you will tell me” Scott doesn't even have the decency to sound smug, the jerk. He's practically emitting waves of sincerity and concern, his heart beat has been steady their entire conversation. Isaac feels his jaw snap shut and he crosses his arms, suddenly determined not to say another word. Scott doesn't seem phased, just drops his chin down and lets his eyes slowly scan the forest around them. Isaac can't help the feeling that Scott is keeping guard. 

 

 

Really, how long did he think this pack thing was going to last? He's had a good run really. It's lasted a long longer than he assumed it would after Erica and Boyd left. The pack has each other now, he could leave if he wanted, chase down his old pack mates. He would like to see them, even if they never made contact where ever they went, even though they abandoned him when he didn't really have anyone else. Only reason he had stuck around was because it seemed like Scott had needed him. It's been a long time since anyone needed him. He liked it, feeling useful. Feeling important. After tonight it's going to be like old times again, only worse because even Lydia saw how fucked up he was tonight. And Scott damn him is still watching! Still waiting!

 

 

'I'm damaged.' he blurts out, 'the pack won't want me'

 

 

Scott eyes widen, incredulous. Isaac can hear Scott heart beat pick up speed for the first time. Scott opens his mouth and laughs- wait..what? He's laughing. The bastard is laughing at him. Eyes crinkling, clutching his stomach, howling with laughter. As if Isaac's stupid fucking problem is the most hilarious thing he's ever heard.

 

 

Fury wells up red and hot and violent and Isaac is in motion before he can check it. He races across the small space between then, grabs fistfuls of Scott's shirt and slams him back against the tree, teeth bared and snarling.  


 

 

'Don't. Laugh. At me.” he growls, words twisted and distorted by his fangs and his rage. Scott's laughter stops slowly, to chuckles before he falls into silence, eyes wide again, bright with unshed tears. Isaac hands are shaking against Scotts chest, this feels like a whole new betrayal. A whole new layer of hurt. The fabric strains between his fingertip and he wants nothing more than to shred it, then to shred the flesh underneath, make Scott feel something, just a little of the pain Isaac is feeling. Maybe then he would understand. Cut him and make him bleed and ruin him until he is as damaged as Isaac is himself. Then he wouldn't laugh, then he would get it.

 

 

Scott's hands come to grip his wrists, warm against his skin. Isaac freezes, flushing red, blood rushing to his face as he realises the compromising position he has thrown himself into. In his rage he's leapt at Scott, smashing him against the tree, shaking him, so wrapped up in his emotions he didn't even notice he is straddling Scott's lap. Not only has he embarrassed himself tonight, possibly hurt his fellow pack members, he is also on the verge of sexually abusing one of the few people he calls his friend. God, doesn't that thought hit him like a ton of bricks, and cut right through his self indulgent internal monologue, Isaac goes to pull away, but Scott tightens his grip, keeping him in place. 

 

 

Isaac futility tries to yank his hands away, to stand up, but Scott has a vice-like grip. Scott can still overpower him, despite the fact Isaac has a good three inches on him. The fact Isaac took the bite voluntarily whereas Scott did not doesn't seem to factor here, Scott has embraced his wolf side far quicker than Isaac has. He has the strength to show for it.  


 

 

“Let me go” he punctuates his words with an attempt to free himself. Thrashing away in Scotts lap. Scott holds his hands tight against his chest, he can feel the steady beat below his palm.

 

 

“No” Scott is calm. “Not until you let me explain” Isaac shakes his head, Scott growls low.  
Isaac meets his gaze, Amber meeting brown, Scott squeezes his wrist a little tighter.

 

 

“I wasn't laughing at you” Isaac just snarls. Scott tilts his head back, baring his neck, submissive even though he has all the power in this situation.“ I wasn't, I promise.”

 

 

Isaac stills, Scott smells like truth, the smell of his amusement is fading, replaced with guilt. He can see the pulse beat in Scotts neck, could scrape his teeth along there and bite. Draw blood, rip out his jugular with his teeth... Or he could draw his tongue long the long plane of his throat, taste the salt on Scott's skin if he was brave enough. Scott's giving him the power, the control, or at least pretending to and it calms his wolf somewhat, enough that the urge to growl and maim is minimal. He appreciates the facade.

 

 

“It's just, what you just said? About the pack. It is the dumbest thing you have ever said to me.” Scott chuckles, brings his head back up “You idiot.”

 

 

Isaac sags in Scotts grip, teeth shrinking, claws subsiding, something akin to relief washing over him. He is sure his face is still bright red but Scott has started rubbing circles with his thumbs over the pulse points on his wrists and Isaac can't bring himself to care.

 

 

“The entire pack is a mess of emotional baggage. Seriously, you have nothing to worry about” Scott assures him, Isaac manages to make a small noise of disbelief. “Seriously, you've never seen how tense Derek gets when he smells smoke? Or how much Stiles shakes when he has to go to the hospital? He hides it but he shudders ever time he walks through the front door”  
Isaac mutters something about he had noticed, but if he's honest he's rather caught up in the feeling of having Scott's skin against his own. The warmth where their legs meet, where he is straddling Scotts thighs. Scott's hands on him. They're close enough he can feel the air, the breath on his face when Scott huffs;

 

 

“Don't even get me started on Jackson, dude hasn't said I love you to his parents since he was 11. Hell, the only girl I ever dated tried to kill me. We've all got baggage man, you don't need to worry about it”

 

 

The mention of Alison is like a slap in the face he desperately needed, he's about two seconds away from a really uncomfortable boner that would be awfully difficult to explain to totally-straight-still-hung-up-on-his-exe Scott. As it is, this close Scott can probably smell his desperation, he's trying really hard not to think about how easy it would be to lean forward, bridge that last few inches to slide their lips together, to taste the air thats been brushing his face. Kiss Scott until he's breathless and flushed and a whole different sort of ruined. 

 

 

He's caught by surprise when Scott lets go of his hands, whilst he is off balance Scott grabs him by the scruff and pulls him down into a hug. One hand around the back of his neck and the other around Isaac's waist, Scott squeezes him tight. Isaac finds himself with his forehead smashed agains Scott's shoulder, surrounded by his earthy scent and instinctively wraps his arms around Scotts waist. How long has it been since he touched someone, was touched by someone like this? Maybe Erica? He muses. No, even when they slept together she was distant with him, careful, never overly touchy. Before then? Not his father, definitely not his father. Oh god, he is **so** not thinking about his father right now. His mother maybe? Probably. Scott treats him differently than the others. Scott doesn't treat him like he is broken, Scott just doesn't think of him that way. Scott, he decides, gives the best freaking hugs. 

 

 

Isaac can feel the tension just drain out of him, Scott rests his head against Isaac's shoulder.

 

 

“You're pack. You belong with us. Next time you say something so stupid I'm going to punch you. Ok?” Isaac gives a weak chuckle. 

 

 

Jackson has called Scott stupid many times in the past, Isaac would argue vehemently that he is anything but. Scott is smart, has shown he capable of manipulation, tactics and cunning if he needs to be. He just prefers to see things simply. He sees things in black and white, friend and enemy, in pack, family and friend as opposed to 'everyone else'. Scott is kind, with everyone, but it changes once someone has his loyalty. Scott sees the best in them. He fights for them. He has a protective streak a mile wide. He loves wholly and whole heartedly. He has trouble letting go. But Scott is not stupid. 

 

 

For those lucky enough to have the honour of being someone Scott cares for, he puts everything on the line, his life, his body, everything. Isaac is starting to get the feeling that he might be one of those people starting to earn that privilege. He quiets the voice in the back of his head that whispers he does not deserve that sort of trust. Scott leaves him to his thoughts, they stay quiet, hugging as the sun goes down until Scott lifts his head and sniffs. 

 

 

“Pizza's here” Scott grins, Isaac doesn't know how he can smell anything over their overlapping scents. Scott's scent is going to be all over him. He is concerned by how ok he is with that. God, he must have been out of it if he missed the sound of a delivery car driving up. He can hear Lydia shouting from the balcony that they're not going to save any for them if they don't hurry up and get inside. He grins. Scott is smiling at him, waiting, Isaac tilts his head. Scott bites his lip, chuckling.

 

 

“Isaac? I can't actually get up until...” He gestures to his lap where Isaac is still sitting like a demented overgrown house cat.  
“Shit. Sorry” Isaac flushes again and almost falls over in his attempt to scramble to his feet so fast. Scott just laughs. He offers Scott a hand and helps him up.

 

 

They head back to the house in companionable silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More to come soon!


	4. I Will Help In The Only Way I Know How.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia helps Isaac. Isaac is there for his friend in the only way he knows. Alison makes an appearance and Jackson is fabulous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to all the lovely commenters and kudos-givers! Each and everyone makes my day.

Isaac gets a call from Lydia later in the week. She's decided to have a 'girls night' and somehow that means he is invited. He doesn't try to see the logic in it. He attempts to decline the invitation but it's really an exercise in futility. No one says 'no' to Lydia Martin. He is left standing, staring at his phone, asking himself how this became his life. 

 

That Friday he grabs his pillow and some blankets, piles them into his car and drives over to Lydia's place. He had been entertaining the thought of just not showing up all day. The scathing look Lydia had shot his way when they passed in the Hale hall suggested she could read his mind and he could expect extreme bodily harm if he stood her up. So here he is, traipsing up the Martin's front path, dread an almost tangible weight on his shoulders. Bag in hand with sleeping clothes and a toothbrush.

 

Climbing the front porch stairs he hitches the blankets under his arm and knocks on the door. He's barely raised his hand when it's swept open with a flash of teeth and a wave of perfume so strong it almost bowls him over. He has to deliberately school his features lest his disgust show, so pungent is the scent of Mrs. Martin's perfume assaulting his nose. Mrs. Martin spreads her arms out in welcome and makes a disturbingly high pitched noise,  
“You must be Isaac!” She looks as if she is contemplating hugging him, he really hopes she refrains.

 

“Mrs. Martin” he nods. She leans forward, smiling further, exposing even more brilliantly white teeth. He can't help but feel kind of like the lamb in front of the wolf here, which is all sorts of ironic.

 

“Lydia has told me all about you.” She says conspiratorially, leaning forward and patting his arm. He fights the urge to lean out of her reach. He isn't sure what to say to that, except that he sincerely doubts it. He is saved by Lydia appearing at the top of the stairs behind her mother.

 

“Mum!” she whines “I said to tell me when he got here!” Lydia looks almost ready to stomp her foot, Isaac smothers his grin. Lydia pounds down the stairs and flounces to a stop in front of him, taking the bag from his hand and turning on her heel to dash back up the stairs. Isaac, having not been told otherwise, follows her with a sheepish grin to Mrs. Martin as he passes her. Mrs. Martin calls up the stairs behind them.

 

“Tell me when you kids want dinner”  
Lydia doesn't respond, just herds Isaac into her room, shutting the door behind him. He stares in wonder for a long moment, her whole room is full of her familiar strawberry scent and soap. Her room is neat as a pin but screams Lydia, from the meticulously organised vanity, decorative nick-nacks lined up precisely and art prints that he doesn't recognise scattering the walls. Her large double bed is made, but covered in text books where she's been studying. So caught up in Lydia's scent is he that he misses the hunter idly flicking though a magazine on the bed. 

 

Alison notices him the exact moment it clicks in his head and they freeze in unison. Alison recovers and stands quickly, ditching the magazine and takes a defensive stance. He eyes her warily, she appears unarmed but he's learnt the hard way that with hunters that doesn't mean anything. Her heart beat is racing as much as his is, he's having trouble containing his wolf. Something tells him claws and fangs right now would do nothing to help the situation. Both Isaac and Alison's eyes flick to Lydia accusingly. 

 

“You said we were having a girls night” Alison grits out. Lydia flicks her hair over her shoulder and dumps Isaac bag on the ground. 

 

“We are” Lydia states simply. She examines her nails thoughtfully and disappears into the walk in closet. Shoulders back, head high, ignoring the tension between her friends.

 

“Why is he here?” She growls. Alison never takes her eyes from him, as if he might attack at any moment. Were it not for the real possibility he might end up with a nail file or some other nearby pointy object embedded in his face he would consider feinting at her, just to watch her jump. 

 

“I invited him” comes from the closet amongst the rustling noise of Lydia searching for something.

 

“Why?!” 

 

“I want him here” 

 

“He's not a girl!”Alison protests. Isaac bites his tongue to avoid agreeing with her. Must not agree with the hunter, purely on principal.

 

“He's an honorary girl for tonight” Lydia emerges with a box and flops down onto the bed. 

 

“You can't do that!” Alison protests. Lydia opens the box to reveal a huge collection of nail polishes and sets to sorting through them, placing colours she likes on the bed spread. Alison grabs her bag and goes to stalk from the room. Lydia is up and blocking the door before Alison can reach it. Lydia glare is like a laser, and despite Isaacs distrust of Alison he is impressed she is not cowed. When that look is turned on him it makes his wolf want to whimper and roll over, bare his belly, anything to turn that glare away from him. 

 

“Alison” Lydia says, full of feeling, Alison crosses her arms and looks unimpressed. Lydia looks up at her friend with wide eyes slowly filling with tears. Isaac snorts, glare not working, she's obviously switching tactics and trying puppy eyes instead.

 

“Alison” She pleads, pouting. No one is a better purveyor of crocodile tears than Lydia. He is watching a master manipulator at work here. He could learn a lot from her. He's pretty sure if she set her mind to it Lydia could talk Derek out of his leather jacket. Though that's not saying much, almost all the boys in the pack would do anything to stop a girl from crying. Less because they care and more because of a sincere fear of girl tears and a willingness to do anything to make them stop... Anything. Lydia's tactics don't work on Alison though, she huffs and starts starts to rant about how wrong this all is. Apparently it's bad enough Lydia is still hanging with the pack, let alone shoving one in her face without warning. Lydia goes from a pout that slowly transforms into a frown, after that he can almost pinpoint the exact moment her patience snaps.

 

“Oh, shut it Alison” she snaps “I'm doing this for you anyway” Alison's mouth falls open. Isaac almost chokes on air. “This is me. Trying to help you. So be grateful, sit your ass down and pick out a colour for your nails. We are watching movies and painting our nails and I don't want to hear another word. Ok?” All of the fight goes out of Alison who snaps her mouth shut with a click, drops her bag and falls back onto the bed. 

 

He has to fight the urge to feel a pity for the hunters daughter. Now that he is paying attention she smells like sadness and...longing. He realises with a start that Alison might actual _miss_ being part of the pack. Slouched on the bed, dejected, she looks a little pathetic, stressed and lonely. What she did was awful, she hurt his pack, almost killed his pack members, his friends, but despite that, despite it all, it must be horrible to loose everyone and everything you care about in one fowl swoop. What does she have left? Her father? 

 

He should feel cross at Lydia for organising this behind his back, springing a hunter on him with no notice. Were he less experienced, newly turned, this could have ended poorly for all of them. He should be mad, but he can see where her intentions lay. Lydia is attempting to reintroduce Alison to the pack, starting with Isaac, the least volatile and aggressive of them. He wants to feel betrayed but he understands. Lydia is just trying to help in her own way. Lydia may not be the kindest person, but she does try and look after her friends in her own fashion. He tries to tell himself the wave of feeling twisting in his chest is one of aggravation, not fondness. 

 

An hour later the three of them are all lounging across Lydia's bed, Lydia is delicately painting Isaac's toes. He had been informed attending a girls night means participating in said girls night activities. Lydia had thrust her box of nail polishes under his nose and demanded he pick one for himself. He picked one at random, apparently not a good choice because Lydia had hummed her disapproval, selected a frankly alarming shade of magenta instead and pulled off his socks and set to work. He had complained the others were going to give him crap for having painted nails but Lydia had just scoffed.

 

“You hang out with boys who think the height of fashion is leather and plaid. They don't have a foot to stand on. ”

 

He must have still looked worried because she had patted his knee and informed him anyone teasing him would have her to deal with. With the wicked smile on her face that promised retribution he did feel a little better.

 

They watch 'The Notebook', which definitely does not make him cry at all and as the minutes watching Ryan Gosling be chiselled pass, the tension in Alison's shoulders slowly starts to dissipate. Finally Alison is comfortable enough to sit and paint her nails without paying him any mind and when she goes to look through Lydia's closet actually turns her back on him without thinking about it. Sure, as soon as she realises what she's done she spins around wide eyed as if he might suddenly be behind her fangs bared. He feels his eyebrows shoot up and she flushes and ducks into the closet. 

 

He's laying on his back, staring at the ceiling, hands resting on his stomach, as Lydia paints, one of her warm hands rests on his ankle. Apparently there is a lot more to this girly stuff than he had ever imagined, Lydia's been buffing and filing and painting for ages. Lydia and Alison have started a constant flow of chatter he is content to let wash over him, contributing now and then with his opinion. 

 

He is trying to ignore the pungent burn of the chemicals in the nail polish by focusing on Lydia and Alison's scents. He's been trying to figure out what Alison smells like for the last half hour. She's vanilla, sunshine, mixed with gun oil and something he cannot place. He's smelt it somewhere before but he simply cannot think where it could possibly be. It's so familiar. It's going to drive him mad if he can't place it, it's worrying the back of his mind like the pain of a loose tooth. 

 

He's distracted from his musing when a familiar presence stirs on the outskirts of his mind. He props himself up on his elbows and turns to the window in time to watch Jackson leap up onto the balcony. Lydia jumps when he knocks, almost spilling the nail polish and curses. Jackson leavers the window up and lets himself in.

 

“Jesus Jackson!” she swats his arm, he just smirks, wide and fond “You scared the crap out of me. Use the front door like a normal person, you freak”

 

Jackson ignores her in favour of wrapping his arms around her middle, tugging her close and pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. Lydia pretends to be annoyed by this, but she smells pleased. She struggles a little before going lax in his arms and pressing her face into the crook of his shoulder. Isaac can't help but be slightly amused by their behaviour, nothing is ever easy with the two of them, every interaction is a battle. No matter how they act though they can't hide the fact they both smell of adoration. 

 

Isaac is surprised to realise he was wrong, he is obviously not the first member of the pack Lydia has reintroduced Alison to. Jackson gives the hunter a simple tilt of his chin and nothing more. Alison returns the gesture and returns to her nails. Jackson is more interested in the fact Isaac is here, his eyes bug a little in his head. He looks as if he is fighting the urge to shuffle Lydia behind him, hide her with his bulk. As if Isaac is some threat he has to protect her from, which is ludicrous, people should be protecting him from the whirlwind of activity that is Lydia Martin.

 

“What is he doing here!?” Jackson gestures wildly. Isaac hasn't moved from his elbows, and is fighting the urge to smirk just to piss Jackson off. He hopes he is radiating enough smug for Jackson to pick up. Lydia rolls her eyes and takes a step out of Jacksons's arms.

 

“We are having a girls night” Lydia reiterates, having none of her boyfriends nonsense she starts pushing Jackson back across the room. “Which means you can't be here” Jackson puts up a good imitation of a fight back to the window, pretending to drag his feet, but honestly, if he didn't want to move, Lydia's petite form would not be able to shift him.

 

“How come Lahey gets to be here if I can't?” he complains.

 

“Because he is an honorary girl tonight” Lydia informs him proudly. Turning to grin happily at Isaac, she's so enthusiastic he can't help but return the smile. 

 

“You can't do that!” Jackson says, incredulous.

 

“Why does everyone keep saying that to me tonight?” she sniffs “Of course I can. My house, my rules” Oh god, if she's picking up Stiles's colloquialisms Lydia has been hanging out with him way too much. 

 

“Why him and not me?” Jackson whines, leaning back so Lydia has to support him, she 'omphs' with the sudden weight. Jackson is soon tilted so far back the two of them are almost bent in two.

 

“Cause he isn't sleeping with me or with Alison. And I said so. Now go! Shoo!” Lydia steps back, detangling herself and getting out from under Jacksons's bulk. Jackson, whose superior reflexes mean he doesn't even fall on his ass, keeps his feet and chuckling, sneaks another kiss. Lydia allows it, sending him out with a put upon sigh. Quick as dash Jackson throws himself out of the window and then he is gone, running off into the night. Not once throughout the whole encounter did Jackson meet Isaac's eye, but five minutes later his phone buzzes, a message from his fellow Beta;

 

_ From: Jackson GQmodelwannabe Whitmore _  
**'Touch my gf and I will end you'**

Isaac reads it with a snort. It's closely followed by:  
 _  
 _From: Jackson GQmodelwannabe Whitmore__  
 **'...If the hunter so much as blinks funny, finish her.'**

 

********************************************************************************

 

Alison had bowed out after the third chick flick, as soon as Lydia had started getting ready for bed. Though spending time with her was nowhere near as unpleasant as he had imagined it would be, he is quietly grateful. Spending a night stuck in the same room would not have been pleasant for either of them. Isaac imagines them both staring into the gloom until the early hours of the morning, unwilling to let their guards down. As it is he will have her scent in his nose as he tries to drift off. Her mystery scent is still bugging him. 

 

Lydia and Isaac help Alison grab her things from around the room. She hoists her bag over her shoulder, there is an awkward moment when she stands in the door, unsure of what to do. Lydia throws herself at Alison, who catches her with a giggle. They sway in each others arms for a second, smelling of affection and contentment. When Lydia pulls away, Alison's eyes flick to him, then away quickly. Alison makes a comment that Isaac did well to survive his first girls night. Lydia turns to him with a smile, agreeing, as soon as her back is to Alison Lydia widens her eyes at him and jerks her head in her friend's direction. Isaac takes the hint and takes an awkward step forward to wrap Alison in a tentative hug. Alison gives a small sigh of relief, a chuckle and returns his embrace, squeezing him tight. He does not mean to have the hug last for long, just a quick squeeze then back off. He can't help himself when he has his face buried in her wild mane of hair, her scent is stronger. He can't help but take a longer moment, chasing that scent, taking a deep breath. It hits him all of a sudden. Why it was so familiar. He has smelt it somewhere before. Of course he has. How could he have missed it? 

 

Alison smells of vanilla, sunshine, gun oil and **Scott**. He jerks away from her with a start, and can feel the blood rush from his face. Oh god, what he can smell is the left over scent from when they were mates. The inevitable mental image causes his stomach to twist painfully. Scotts' scent is worked into her skin. Even now, months after they broke up, she still smells of him. Hours spent with him, skin to skin have left Scotts' mark on her. She's staring at him in confusion now. He stumbles back, almost trips over the corner of the bed, catches himself and tries to act normal. Runs a hand through his hair, swipes it across his face, tries to get rid of the scent that now he has noticed is slapping him right in the face. A brutal physical reminder of the unobtainable. 

 

“It was good to see you Alison.” he manages to croak. She doesn't look convinced, but is still quietly pleased.

 

“You too Isaac. Really” her heart beat is strong and steady. She's smiling at him. He tries to return it and thinks he manages to work his face into something resembling the correct expression. Lydia gives him a frown and a quizzical look before going to walk Alison out. Isaac flops back on the bed. 

*************************************************************************************

 

Lydia comes back and stalks into the adjoined bathroom to get changed into her pajamas. When she returns in sleep shorts and a singlet, she throws herself next to Isaac on the bed and examines him critically. Isaac peaks out at her from where he has arm thrown over his face. He groans. Lydia pokes him in the arm.

 

“So what was that?” Isaac just groans again. “You were doing so well” She promises. Isaac murmurs something into his arm. Lydia pokes him brutally in the ribs. He flinches with a pathetic whine, glaring up at her.

 

“Well?” she demands, crossing her arms. 

 

“She smelt like Scott” he mumbles, hiding his face again. He hears Lydia give an 'ohhhhh' in response “I mean, I didn't pick it up until the end there, but yeah. She smells like a pack mate.”

 

“So why is that a problem?” when he tilts his head to look at her, she is waiting with a pointed expression. 

“Well?” she says impatiently.

 

“I-” his voice gets lost in his throat. He looks at her helplessly.

 

“Well?” she coaxes.

 

“I-” he tries again. He's opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish, no noise is coming out. Somewhere along the line all the words he wants to say 'I don't like the fact she has him and I don't' or 'I want to be the only one who smells of him' are getting lost. As he is staring up at the ceiling, trying to find his voice, Lydia shuffles across the mattress, coming to rest at his side. Her knees are almost touching his hips and when she leans across his chest, her hair trails across his stomach. He realises he's holding his breath when she places both of her warm hands on either sides of his face and leans in. He takes in a huge gasp of air. He can smell everything like this, her shampoo, her lipgloss, the scent of her skin. 

 

“Isaac, open your eyes” she commands, he hadn't even realised he had closed them. He does as he is told, she's so close, eyes wide and blue, he can taste the skittles she had eaten during the movies on her breath. Her hair falls in a wave around their faces, blocking out the rest of the room. Without really meaning to his hands come up to clutch her sides, at the gentle curve of her hip. She's soft hidden strength but so fragile all at the same time and he grips her singlet tight to centre himself. A deep breath to keep the wolf at bay. His wolf likes Lydia, he won't hurt her. She leans in closer, until they're almost touching nose to nose. Another inch and their lips could touch, he imagines hers would be soft and perfect. He's transfixed by the image of her pink glossy lips, and it takes a moment for him to realise she's talking to him. 

 

“Isaac?” 

 

“Yes Lydia?” Thankfully his voice seems to have returned to him, how lovely. Lydia tilts her head, her hair tickles his nose and he is caught up in the shadows thrown on her pale cheeks by her impossibly long eyelashes.

 

“Do you want me to kiss you?” she whispers. She waits. He doesn't say anything at all. Lydia smirks, smile pulling at the corners of her mouth, leans back and flicks her hair over her shoulder. He reels from the loss of contact. “No, you don't.”

 

“I-I don't?” He sits up, now just really confused. They were so close to- whatever that was. Lydia is shifting away from him, off the bed to fetch a hair tie from her bedside table.

 

“No, because you don't have feelings for me. You have feelings for him, you idiot. You don't even have a boner right now” 

 

He looks down at his crotch and oh hey look, she's right. He's not really turned on, the contact was nice, lovely, warm, Lydia's presence calms him, his mind is quiet when she's close but it's not what his wolf calls for. Who makes him want to strip off his cloths, run through the woods and howl pitifully at the moon. The one he tries to watch from the corner of his eye. Who makes his palms sweat and his heart race when they are so much as in the same room as him. It hits him then, if Lydia knows then maybe he is being so obvious that everyone kn-

 

“I'm the only one whose figured it out” she assures him, once again proving his theory she can read minds “Well, I think Danny might be onto you too, but I'm not sure” he sighs with relief, as long as Scott doesn't know it's ok. If Scott knows then there will be the inevitable rejection. Which, is honestly, truly inevitable and then things will be awkward and oh god, he's going to ruin everything. Lydia is back in front of him whilst he was having his internal freakout, she places her hand on his cheek and swiftly swoops in to peck him on the other. 

 

“He would be lucky to have you” she murmurs. He gives her a grateful smile, but doesn't agree with her. She runs her hand through his shaggy hair, gives a lock at the front a playful tug.

 

“Go get into you pajama's. I wanna go to sleep” she orders, he heaves himself off the bed and goes to get changed. As he stands in front of the mirror wiping a pink lip gloss stain of his cheek, he wonders if whatever it was that just happened is going to earn him a beating from Jackson. 

 

************************************************************************************************

 

Isaac is given a futon to sleep on, set up at the end of Lydia's bed. The positioning is not much helping the underlying feeling Isaac is getting that Lydia is treating him as some sort of pet. As much as it rubs him the wrong way to be sleeping at her feet like some sort of dog he does not say anything. He will deny it until the day he dies but the time spent with Lydia and Alison was actually not all that bad. Of course he felt a little misplaced, a little like a sore thumb, but it was nice to have someone there who talked to him as if he were one of them, worthy of their secrets, wanting to know his. He groans and buries his head in depth of his pillow, who is he kidding? He is totally Lydia's pet project. 

 

He doesn't have any trouble falling asleep, Lydia's closeness has covered up Alison's disconcerting scent. He drifts off on the pillow that smells of her, with Lydia's heart beat singing him to sleep. 

 

It's early morning when he wakes with a start, unsure of what stirred him. He hears moaning coming from Lydia's bed. He freezes, and that's when the waves of terror drift over him. He shakes the last of the sleep from his eyes, checking the room for intruders. The blinds are still drawn, sun just starting to peak over the horizon. Nothing is out of place. Nothing. He listens for a moment longer, she's moaning and thrashing but at a second look her heartbeat suggests she probably still sleeping, a nightmare then. He throws up his choices for a moment, takes the time to withdraw his fangs and claws. Then he's up on his feet, padding quietly across the floor to her bed. He drops down onto his knees on the hardwood floor by her head. 

 

There's a thin sheen of sweat covering her forehead and the acrid smell of it and the terror lingering over her covers her natural scent. It makes his wolf want to growl and chase away the darkness. His hand hovers over her for a long moment twitching, she's tossing her head across the pillow. Trying to escape some imagined danger. He's heard stories about not waking people who are dreaming, that it can be bad for their subconscious or something...or is that sleepwalkers? Either way, whatever is haunting her has put that furrow in her brow, the tears in her eyes and the muffles pleas that escape from her lips and he won't leave her to that. 

 

He puts a hand gently, tentatively on her forehead to stop her thrashing, to still her. As soon as he makes contact Lydia's eyes fly open and she wakes with a horrible start. She scrambles away from his touch, eyes wide and unseeing with panic, gaze darting around the room, searching for exits, intruders, whatever was chasing her. He's reminded of what Scott had said that night in the forest _“We've all got baggage, you don't have to worry about it”_ , somehow it just makes him feel worse, the idea Lydia has been dealing with this. On her own, scared when she sleeps, and none of them had any idea. He will worry about it. 

 

He shuffles back on his knees a bit, gives her some space to breathe. Her eyes fall on him, wide and distressed, unaware of his presence until she awakens a bit further and comprehension slowly rises. She gasps his name, a breathy inhale and clasps her hands to her mouth, eyes squeezing shut, tears finally falling as she breaks down into horrible gut wrenching sobs. She falls to her side and curls her knees up to her chest, shaking with keening whimpers that she tries to smother with her hands. He doesn't move, doesn't say a word, frozen, unsure. He feels like he is intruding, this is private. Lydia hides her weaknesses, always. She defends the chinks in her armour with a wall of flawless makeup and sass. Lydia projects who she wants the world to see and he knows it is not this. She would not want him to see her with tears pouring down her face, eyes red and puffy, nails leaving deep impressions in the soft skin of her cheeks where she is trying to stifle the noise. She hoards her flaws furiously, like a dragon would sit atop a pile of gold, this feels like a betrayal of her trust, to see her this way without permission.

 

He's weighing up his options, seriously considering leaving, giving Lydia her privacy and just getting his belongings later. Lydia, eyes still closed to the gloom, eye still streaming throws her hand out in his direction, grasping, open and searching. She cannot see him, just trusts he is there. He reaches out and intertwines their fingers without a second thought. She draws his hand in, clinging to it like a lifeline, curls around it and he can feel the hot burn of her tears as they slip across his skin. 

 

He knows, in his head, if he were Stiles, or Jackson or hell, even Danny this would play out so differently. He would be on the bed with her in a heartbeat, cradle her in his arms, draw her to him so he could tuck her head under his chin and stroke her hair and hold her until she calms and falls back to sleep. He would whisper soothing, sweet nothings that would help take away her pain and tell her it's all going to be ok. He would rub her back, drawing his fingertips lightly against the soft skin of her shoulders in nonsense patterns, press a kiss to her forehead. 

 

Right now, Lydia doesn't have Stiles or Jackson or Danny though, she just has Isaac. He holds onto her hand, squeezing back tightly, hard enough to hurt, to let her know she is still alive, she's still here and he doesn't say a word. He does not say it's ok, because it's not, it's so fair from ok it pains him. He doesn't say a word, not about her cries, or her sobs, or her frantic heartbeat. He does not say a word about her fear, her sweat or her tears. Under her breath, in between heaving gasps she is whispering _'my head is my own, my head is my own, my head is my own'_ over and over, a broken desperate mantra, so quiet normal human ears could not pick it up, he has never hated his wolf so much as he does in that moment. 

 

They fall asleep like that, Lydia curled in the foetal position, Isaacs hand clutched to her chest as if it is the one thing that might save her. Fingers entwined, Isaac sprawled half against the bed, on the floor, long limbs splayed out beneath him. They sleep, exhausted, until the sun is well and truly up and the sounds of Lydia's parents getting ready rouses them. Lydia's the first to open her eyes. She presses a kiss to his knuckles and gets up to get dressed. Isaac watches her go. They never speak of that night again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear to god I do have plot planned for this story. It's coming, I swear!


	5. A Turn For The Worse.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny announces he wants the bite, saying it so nonchalantly he could be commenting on the weather. Everything takes a turn for the worse after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to all the lovely commenters and kudos-givers. I love you all.
> 
> Just to clarify, in this universe, the alpha pack showed up briefly, then disappeared, Isaac doesn't know why. 
> 
> There is a bit of a cliffhanger on the end of this one, but the next chapter is coming soon I promise :)

As time passes there are small shifts and changes in the workings of the pack. Derek starts to bring in new rules, small things, things that Isaac doesn't think the rest of the pack notices. He doesn't point them out, Derek desperately avoids the subject. Isaac suspects these rules might be older than just their group but doesn't push it. Most of them he suspects are to help bring regulation and structure to the pack. Since the alpha pack made their brief appearance on the scene he's caught Derek staring at them all, calculating. Usually with a frown on his face, shoulders tense. There are new lines of tension around the alpha's eyes that don't seem to ever go away these days. Isaac knows they need to be stronger but wishes that he would at least talk to them about it. Derek doesn't trust them, the fact irks him, stings, but that's Derek. Social reject extraordinaire who just organises life changing stuff without running it by anyone else. 

 

Derek increases training for all of them, but none more so than Scott. Scott has the most control, the most strength, more so than the rest of the beta's. He takes the fact he has been getting slapped down harder, trained rougher than the rest of them personally. Isaac is sure there is a method to Derek's madness, but Scott just thinks Derek is being a dick. 

 

Danny announces he wants to take the bite when they're all exhausted from yet another brutal training session, sprawled across each other in the dirt, panting, covered in sweat. They're resting in what Stiles affectionately calls 'puppy piles'. Isaac sits on the stairs next to Derek. A small part of him affronted by the mental image, they're badass werewolves dammit.

 

Danny says it so nonchalantly he could be commenting on the weather, it doesn't even register for a long moment. He doesn't look at them from when he is staring up at the sky, laying on his back, head pillowed on Jacksons stomach, hands folded on his chest. It clicks for Jackson first, who gives a joyful whoop, and sits up with a start, dislodging a grumbling Danny. Jackson ruffles his best friends hair, Danny chuckles ruefully, sits up and shoves him back, running fingers through his hair to smooth it back down. Jackson slings his arm around Danny's shoulder and turns to grin at the rest of the pack. Isaac has never seen a smile that sincere on Jackson, it suits him. The whole pack turns to Derek, they all know how this goes depends on him, they wait to gauge his reaction. Bringing a new Beta into the fold is not something to be taken lightly, not withouts it risks and dangers. They've learnt that the hard way. Derek gives Danny critical look. 

 

“This isn't a joke” It's not a question, just a statement, a warning. Danny nods.

 

“I know” Danny assures him, meeting Derek's eye.

 

“We'll need to talk about it” Derek stands, brushing his hands off on his jeans. There is a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth though that is becoming recognisable as the one he can't contain when he is secretly pleased. 

 

Stiles and Lydia have matching looks, tight, sharp smiles, are unusually still. As if he were to touch them they might shatter to pieces. Lydia is watching Jackson wrap Danny in another embrace. Jackson is not even bothering to try to hide his excitement. Stiles gaze flits between Jackson and Danny and the look of quiet elation Derek's face. Both the humans smell a little worried, he wonders perhaps they feel as if they are loosing a member of their own. Humans in a werewolf pack are becoming a rare breed. Jackson turns to Derek,

 

“Can you do it now?” he asks Derek, doesn't wait for a response before turning back to Danny “This is going to be awesome.”  
Derek sobers,. 

 

“No. Not today” the frown is back. “If we do this, we do this right” Derek makes a 'come here' gesture to Danny. With a firm hand on the back of the neck the alpha steers him inside.

 

Isaac can hear them head down the hall, then there is the click of the door to Derek's room and the conversation inside is too muffled to hear. Jackson drops back down and drapes himself over Lydia's lap. He must realise he is acting far too happy for his stick in the mud persona and schools his face back into a sneer. Isaac turns to Scott who is sitting next to Stiles, to find him glaring into dirt, fists clenched in the soft dark earth. Isaac sidles over to him,

 

“You ok?” 

 

“I need a glass of water” Scott growls, jumps up and stalks inside. Isaac takes in the rest of the pack, bottles of water scattered all around them. Then, because he has never known when to leave well enough alone, follows Scott inside. 

 

When he gets inside, Scott is sitting atop one of the half finished kitchen benches, glass of water sitting full beside him. He's staring thoughtfully at his knees like they contain all the answers to the universe. With the tense set of his shoulders and the white knuckled grip he has on the bench the beginning of dread to twist beneath Isaacs ribs. 

 

“Danny knows what he's doing” Isaac reassures him.

 

“Does he?” Scott muses, not looking up.  
Isaac doesn't say anything, just leans against the counter next to Scott's legs, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off him. 

 

“I don't want this for him” Scott confesses quietly, barely a breath on an exhale. “I don't want this for any of us” he's started worrying at a thread on the seam of his jeans. It's so unusual to see him full of nervous tension, it sends goosebumps rolling down his arms. Since the bite Scotts every movement is deliberate, he knows his strength and he controls it around others. Scott is nothing if not comfortable in his own body and Isaac just wants to place his hands on his skin and work the tension away. He takes a moment to collect his thoughts.

 

“Danny wants this. He gets it. He knows the life” They fall into silence for a long moment. The sounds of their breathing and the dripping of the tap echoing around them. Isaac darts a look, Scott has been biting at his lips, leaving them bright and swollen. He can feel the colour start to spread high on his cheek bones at the mental image of other, more enjoyable activities that might leave him looking similarly debauched. Isaac takes a deep breath and quietly says what he really needs to.

“I'm sorry you didn't get a choice”

 

Scott gaze flicks to him with a frown, assessing and unsure. Isaac isn't sure what he reads there but he gives a shrug of his shoulders, non-committal and nonchalant but Isaac knows better, can smell the grief on him.

 

“ I don't understand why you wanted this” Scott admits, twisting back to play with a hole he has discovered in the knee of his pants. 

 

“I wanted to be strong” Isaac states plainly, truthfully, rubbing at the back of his neck. All his life he has hated his weakness, unable to save his mother, unable to stand up to his father. Weak.  
Scott scoffs, levels him with a piercing glare.

 

“You were always strong.”

 

Isaac chuckles, shoves his hands deep in his pockets to keep himself from running his hands through Scott's hair. He's obviously been running rubbing, tugging at it in his stress because its sticking up in strange, oddly endearing tufts and Isaac just wants to smooth them down and put him back together. 

 

“I'm stronger now” Isaac smiles nudging Scott a little with his shoulder. Scott just sighs and Isaac can't help but feel he's missed something. “He just wants to be part of the pack” Isaac has no idea why he finds himself defending Danny's decision. It's not even a sure thing yet, but Isaac can see where his head must be at, has been there himself. He's kicking himself for it though, especially when it's obviously just aggravating Scott further. Scott jumps of the bench and spins to face him, crowds him against the bench. Brow furrowed and finger pointed into Isaac's chest.

 

“No. Just no.” he snaps “being bitten does **not** make him any more pack.”

 

He really must ask Derek how he does his radiating calm thing because he gives it his best shot and is pretty sure he doesn't look anything but constipated. He gives it up for a bad lark and goes for nonchalant instead. 

 

Isaac just raises his hands in submission. Scott refuses to let it go though, pokes him right over his heart, once, twice, three times. Isaac does not back down, just makes a non-committal murmur. He thinks to the way Stiles sort of slumps when there is a fight he can't go to for his own safety, (really though, who are they kidding? If Stiles decides he wants to go somewhere, short of chaining him in the basement he's going to turn up there one way or the another) or Derek's reaction last time they had collectively forgotten about Danny's more fragile nature and almost broken his wrist. Derek had pushed Danny to sit, examined his arm with frighting intensity and then pulled Danny from training for weeks. Danny had just looked a little crushed at the whole situation. The boys won't go within ten feet of Lydia when they're shifted for fear of bruising her.... but at the same time...

 

Lydia has somehow managed to creep into his life without his noticing or his permission and he thinks that she might actually be his best friend. As strange as that is. Well, she would be his, there is a distinct possibility she thinks of him more as an entertaining pet. Hell, she is the only thing stopping the pack from drowning in testosterone for one. Between her and Stile they've also probably stopped the pack from eating their way into an early grave with nothing but meat and take out. Their arteries probably owe them thanks......

 

...and hell, Stiles, where the hell would the pack be without Stiles? He's become the glue that keeps them together. He's Scotts best friend, the head to Scott's heart, logic to moderate his forward enthusiasm. Stiles is the plan maker, the researcher, and occasionally the oh-my-god-Stiles-I'm-bleeding-and-I-need-you-to-come-get-me-taxi. He is the one to temper Derek's rage, with sheer bluster and talk. He's not afraid of them and he's not afraid to call them on their crap. Isaac isn't sure how, but somehow Stiles keeps them all a little bit more human. 

 

Both Stiles and Lydia put up with the same supernatural nonsense the rest of the pack do, but they do it minus weapons and without a healing factor. 

 

“OK, ok. They're just as much pack as I am” he affirms. 

 

“Exactly!” Scott throws his arms in the air. “He doesn't need to do this!”

 

“Danny is a big boy, he can make his own choices. The rest of us chose this” Isaac points out, a little wary. Scott's started pacing around the half finished kitchen like a caged animal. Reaches one end spins on his heel and turns back. His face is flushed, red spots high on his cheeks. 

 

“Well you shouldn't have!” Scott snaps, “Why would anyone choose this?!”

 

“We-”

 

“It's dangerous, having to watch our backs, live constantly looking over our shoulders. That's not normal!” Scott is reaching levels of arm flailing usually reserved for Stiles and those balloon men outside of car dealerships. “ We're teenagers! We are supposed to be worrying about girlfriends and boyfriends and if we are going to past economics, not if we could DIE tomorrow”

 

“I know the bite has it's risks, but the rest of us are safe-”

 

“No! No!” Scott interrupts him, a finger thrust in his direction, “Just because we have an arrangement with Chris that is convenient for him at the moment doesn't mean we are safe! Hunters out there? Outside Beacon hills? They're like Gerard and -and Kate. They are the rule, not the exception. Everyone is in danger because of what we are. Our families? We risk them because of what we are”

 

Scott turns and starts to pace again, more frantic tugging at his hair. Isaac just wants kiss away the crease between his brows and get back the carefree version of Scott he is used to.

 

“We'll stick to-”

 

Scott spins back toward him, gets right up in Isaac's face, his pupils are blown, only a thin ring of hazel around black. For the first time the longest time Isaac feels the urge to cringe away from him. It doesn't feel right to have Scott so full of anger he can smell it on him. Scott is so frenzied he doesn't even notice Isaac flinch. Their heart beats are both pounding away, god knows what the rest of the pack must think is happening. 

 

“His parents are going to think he's a monster.” Scott snarls. Words slightly garbled by his teeth. “His **mum** will look at him like he is a monster!”

Something clicks then, this isn't about Danny. Not really. Not really at all. 

 

“Scott” he says tentatively, reaching a hand out to touch Scotts arm “your mum-”

 

“No! You don't get it!” Scott snarls, slapping his hand away. Isaac recoils, the spot stinging from more than just the force of it “You don't HAVE a family”

 

The words are barely out of Scott's mouth before his eye's widen, and he snaps his mouth shut, paling visibly. Isaac freezes, plays over what was just said in his head. Once, twice, three times. Yes, he just said that. Scott just said that. Scott runs his hand through his hair again, looking traumatised but above all else, guilty. 

 

“Shit. Isaac I didn't-” oh, there, Scotts heart skips a beat. This time when Scott reaches out to him Isaac steps away. 

 

“Don't. Please?” Isaac cuts him off with a tight lipped smile, not betraying any emotion. On the inside he is a storm of anger and hurt and other emotions he does not even want to look into right now. “You're right, I don't. But this.?..this is about Danny.” Isaac squares his shoulders, puffs himself up and stares Scott down. Tries for the first time to make himself strong, someone to listen to. He stabs a finger in Scotts direction.  
“So don't make this about you.” He says with a blank expression. Leaves before Scott break out the puppy dog eyes because Isaac knows he doesn't stand a chance against them. Repentant Scott is one of the most pathetic things in the world, so pitiful it's impossible to stay angry. And right now? Isaac wants to stay angry. 

 

Isaac turns his back on Scott and stomps his way outside to where Stiles, Lydia and Jackson are still laying on the ground. Jackson has started up a fast paced monologue about the benefits of having another beta in the pack. Lydia and Stiles look vaguely amused yet slightly pained at the same time. Isaac flops down beside Lydia and with a groan lets his his forehead fall against her shoulder. She doesn't turn to look at him just pats him gently on the head. Oh god, he was right. He's totally her pet. 

 

***************************************************************************************************************

 

It's a nervous affair when the full moon does swing around, huge and pale in the sky, taunting. 

 

Earlier that morning the pack had gathered in the Hale lounge room, each given Danny a hug. They keep smiles on their faces and don't mention the possibility of things not working. They don't acknowledge this for what it is, a goodbye. Scott has pulled his head in about the whole Danny situation, puts a grin on his face, wishes Danny luck as he wraps and arm around his shoulders and thumps him on the back. If Scott's grin is a bit tight, a little forced, no one calls him on it. The past week Scott has been avoiding Isaac like the plague, when they have to be in the same room like this Scott does not meet his eye. It's left Isaac with a bitter taste in his mouth and a heavy weight resting on his chest.

 

Derek and Danny disappear into the only finished bedroom upstairs. The pack wait on edge in the lounge below. Scott shuffled, hidden behind Stiles. There is a muffled cry that sends a flinch shivering across the room. They wait. And Wait. And Wait. 

 

Derek comes back down the stairs wiping his hands on his jeans. 

“It will take” he says with a nod and a tight grin. The rest of the pack sags with relief. “He's sleeping it off.”

 

The pack while away the hours, doing anything and nothing to pass the time, all of them hover, circle as if an invisible tie draws them towards the bedroom door. None of them go far or get much done that day. 

 

When the sun is beginning to set, Isaac is sent to fetch Danny. He knocks lightly on the bedroom door, pushing it gently open. Danny is waiting in the dark. 

 

“I can see everything” Danny breathes, examining his hand held out before him in the gloom.  
Isaac puts gives him a reassuring grin and a gentle hand on his back, helps him up and steers him outside to where there rest of the pack is waiting. 

 

Stiles, and Lydia are shuffled behind the weres as Derek shifts into his alpha form for the first time in front of them all. It's uncomfortable to watch, he does not think it pains Derek but his bones move under his skin making sickening noises and they all cringe. 

 

Once the transformation is complete, Derek is beautiful though, huge, but all soft fur and sleek lines. Coat steel grey and thick. Isaac is not sure what he was expecting, possibly the mutated half man half wolf _thing_ Peter became rather than the sleek oversized wolf before them. There is a joke about 'what you are on the inside' somewhere in there, he just knows it.

 

Derek sat them all down yesterday and warned them that in this form he has far less control. The wolf rides shotgun, acts on instinct and emotion. There is a look akin to fear in his eyes when he warns them to watch their actions, flicking to Lydia and Stiles.

 

The pack are all still as Derek paces before them, eyes red and wary. They form a staggered line, precision beyond them. Scott is the first, Derek shuffles right up close until the beta bares his throat. Gingerly the alpha opens his jaws, teeth white and gleaming and closes his mouth gently, very gently around Scott's windpipe. The whole pack can hear Scott's heart thumping away in his chest, but he doesn't move, doesn't shift, doesn't do anything that could be interpreted as a threat or a challenge. After snuffling against Scotts collar for a second Derek moves off.

 

Jackson's next, it doesn't take as long, Jackson's heart beat doesn't falter or change speed. He just throws his shoulders back and his chin up. Derek nudges Jackson with his snout to the gut as he moves on, gets a reluctant chuckle. 

 

Lydia's heart's race as Derek places his jaw across her throat. She does not flinch though, is brave (or daft enough, depending on how want to look at it) enough to place her hand on Derek's head to gently play with the soft fur of his ears. Derek makes a soft grumbling noise that could possibly be mistaken for a laugh. He snaps at Lydia's hand and with a soft grin she quickly tucks them behind her back. 

 

Derek steps up to Isaac, who can't help but freeze, Derek's red gaze is severe as if he can see right through to his core. He pulls himself together and gives an almost imperceivable nod. Derek growl starts up again, low in his chest, different though, warm and rumbling, it slows Isaac's frantic heartbeat. He throws his gaze skyward, focuses on the overcast night sky as he feels the warm heat of the alpha's jaw fit snug against his neck. He can feel his own pulse beating against the points of Derek's teeth. He is desperately aware of the fact his own death could come before he could so much as blink. 

 

With the warm puffs of air hitting his throat, he slows his breathing to match it, calming himself. Inhale and exhale. Like Derek had shown him. Derek lets him loose with a nudge under his chin as he steps away. This close, Derek smells like power, coiled strength, the forest and his wolf just want to growl happily and bask in Derek's approval.

 

After him, Stiles is quick to tilt his head, but complains every second. This is par for the course until the moment Stiles whines Derek smells wet dog and the alpha retaliates by licking a huge wet swipe up the side of Stiles' face. Stiles' laughing, pushes the alpha away with one hand and wipes at his face with his other. There is a growl, a swipe of a huge paw as the wolf reads Stiles' action as a challenge. Stiles laugh is cut off, before anyone can so much as blink he is thrown roughly, flat on his back. The alpha poised growling over him, lips pulled back in a threatening snarl. Stiles face is ashen as he gawks wide eyed at the mass of teeth bared scant inches from his face. Someone, he suspects Jackson gives a startled squeak. They all know Stiles is one wrong move from having his jugular physically, horribly and above all permanently removed from his body. Scott, Jackson and Danny are moving the next second, who knows what they plan to do, attempt to pull Derek off probably, as poorly as they know that will go. 

 

Stiles throws out a hand out in their direction, doesn't break eye contact with the still snarling alpha but it stops them all in their tracks. 

 

“Wait!” he commands and they falter, “I've got this.” 

 

With a deep breath he lets his head thunk back onto the soft earth, hands falling back to his side. Everyone waits on baited breath. Isaac has never been more aware of how fragile Stiles is at that moment. Delicate bones hidden behind thin skin not designed to stand up under supernatural strength and rage. Stiles' mind is his greatest weapon. Against a six foot angry wolf there is very little he can do. Isaac can see Derek tearing the human to shreds, can almost watch the whole thing play out behind his eyes. He can tell he isn't the only one either, Scott is almost trembling, its obvious how much it's hurting him to watch his friend like this.

 

The sound ripping from Derek's muzzle raises the hair on the back of his neck, it's dark, threatening and the least human he has ever sounded. Stiles' heart is thrumming, quick as a bird's, as if trying to escape the confines of his ribcage. Stiles tries to make himself as small as possible and tilts his chin up to let Derek settle with his teeth against his neck. If perhaps it's a little tighter, a little crueler than the rest? Well that's their business. Paw's settle on his chest with an 'oof' of expelled air, Derek in this form is not light by any means. Stiles might have bruises later, but no blood is drawn. Stiles face is pallid, sweat beading on his brow but his eyes are open and determined. The whole pack is drawn tight as bow strings as Derek stays like that for near a minute, weight rested across Stiles chest as the human lies belly up, still as the grave.

 

Derek finally stands up with a snort, licks another strip from cheekbone to ear and waits. Stiles groans, keeps his hands by his sides, just crinkles his nose. Derek, his point made, snorts and steps off. The rest of the pack sags with relief. Stiles grumbles into his sleeve about kibble breath as he swipes across his face, Isaac thinks he hears a muttered 'jackass' somewhere in there as well.

 

Derek slinks up to Danny, the last in line who at this point smells like a ball of frayed and jangled nerves. Danny's eyes are beginning to shine in the gloom of sunset, he doesn't have much time left before his first change. Isaac hopes he has enough control to get through Derek's little orientation ritual or whatever this is. It is going to suck if they loose Danny before he can even turn properly for the first time because he got a bad case of the oops-I-tried-to-kill-yous and Derek accidentally murders him... It's says something about his life that that thought is even something running through his head. 

 

He need not have worried though, Danny, looking slightly dazed, claws starting to show, tilts his head and gives his submission just as easily as the rest of them. 

 

Derek backs off, smelling content and just the tiniest bit smug as he gives himself a bit of a shake, the intimidating wolf gone for a moment and he looks, for all intents and purposes like a dog drying off after a bath. Derek probably would not appreciate the comparison though, so Isaac keeps his mouth shut. With a quirk of his head the alpha sets off into the forest at a trot. Obviously expecting them to follow, he does not even look back. The alpha's scent sits heavy on their clothes and skin.They smell like him. Belong with him. Belong _to_ him. There is an impatient yip from within the tree. The beta's all shuck the majority of their clothes, having learnt the hard way that there is only so many times you can explain blood splattered and tattered clothing to a parent before they start to get suspicious. They can barely manage to contain their grins, shifting when they are down to just their pants. 

 

Jackson grabs Danny by the arm and starts half running, half dragging him towards the woods. Danny gets his bearings and they start an impromptu race towards the tree line. Scott follows them with a wary look in Isaacs direction. Isaac last in line, turns his gaze back before the house is out of sight. Stiles and Lydia stand in front of the house, watching them leave. Left behind. Humans in the werewolf pack. Lydia gives him a small wave and a sad smile before Stiles slings an arm over her shoulder and they head back inside.

 

He watches the door close behind them, contemplates going inside, stretching out next to Lydia on the couch, letting her put her feet in his lap, her warm presence surround him, but a howl goes up for him further into the forest. Calling for him, telling him to hurry up, they're so impatient. He doesn't hide his grin as he runs towards it.

 

***************************************************************************************************************

 

It doesn't take him long to get to the others, he suspects they've been jogging slowly, waiting for him. He doesn't say anything, just tags Danny across the back of the shoulder blade as he darts past, starting up a game of tag. Danny sprints after him, his burst of surprised laughter at his new speed and strength dancing around them. It fills him with an elation he was not expecting. He realises this feels right, with the moon above them, earth beneath them and the pack surrounding them, to welcome Danny into the fold. This is _right_. This is how it is supposed to be done, not in secret, hidden in hospitals and ice rinks and decrepit train stations. Freedom and unity as opposed to fear and overwhelming isolation. Not knowing what to expect or what was happening as your body suddenly turns and rebells against you. Derek was right to wait, to change Danny this way. Maybe there is something to this ritual business. It was bad enough the night Isaac was bitten and he at least had Derek there, talking (Derek's version of talking anyway) him through it. Isaac catches a glimpse of Scott's face as he ducks around a tree and is surprised by the unguarded jealousy he reads there. When he thinks about it, how different must Danny's first experience be to Scott's? Scott, who was so alone, probably terrified, had no idea what was happening. _'I don't want this for any of us..... '_

 

None of their experiences have been like this though, Danny is taking to it like a fish to water, eyes bright as he ducks through the underbrush. The presence of the pack and the alpha seems to be helping them all keep control of the wolf tonight. Derek is probably wise to be herding them, calling them towards the deepest part of the woods, but none of them seem likely to try and murder anyone anytime soon. Danny's laughter and joy is a far cry from his own first moon chained and locked up in a train carriage. 

 

He would never forget that night, that first full moon. He had watched Derek, critical of all of the alpha's actions. Derek had met his eye with a look of regret as he had locked Isaac's shaking hands beside him. Patted his shoulder when Isaac squeezed his eyes shut to block out the voice of his father. When Erica whimpers started, he forced himself to watch, be there for her in the only way he could. Derek had started to tighten the headpiece, screws digging brutally into her skull, when she screamed and he found himself whining in sympathy. Isaac was caught by the fact Derek turned his head, as if unable to watch himself causing her pain. The idea was endearing, Derek cared enough to hate it, even though it was a necessary evil. Isaac had been awfully surprised to feel the first stirrings of trust begin to form low and hot in his chest. 

 

What had happened next is history, Derek had left, and he, Erica and Boyd had clung to each other for as long as they could. Without Derek there, without the stabilising presence of the alpha and no idea what was coming, their fear and terror looped between them, smothering, a closed circuit of horror that amplified until they almost lost their minds with it. By the time Derek had returned it was too late. Truly, they were lucky none of them were seriously injured that night. That was the night he had decided to stick with Derek, decided he meant well....perhaps did not usually go about things in the best or most efficient way, but he cared after his own fashion. Derek had looked after him, looked after Erica and Boyd too.

 

He gives himself a little bit of a shake as Jackson comes and smacks him lightly across the arm and darts back off. Why is he thinking of Erica and Boyd all of a sudden? This is a night to celebrate the newest beta in their midst, not a night for mourning those they have lost. He dusts himself off, and throws himself back into the chase. 

 

He spies Scott running parallel to him and decides then and there he is sick of the awkward space that has formed between them. He puts on a burst of speed and taps Scott's ankle with his own as Scott goes to leap over a log. Scott goes tumbling into the dirt but responds quick enough to grab Isaac's wrist with enough force to drag him down too. They end up going headlong into the dirt, before coming to rest in a tangle of limbs with Scott bare chest pressed against his own, legs tangled together. 

 

Scott is looking up at him with such wide horrified eyes, has a multitude of leaves and small twigs in his hair and the whole situation is so damn ridiculous Isaac can't help but let a bewildered chuckle escape his lips. Before he knows it he is cackling like a madman. Scott just watches warily, like he might snap any second. When he can contain himself, he props himself up on his hands, legs still tangled with Scotts. He would feel guilty but Scott isn't making an attempt to move though, so he doesn't feel too bad. Isaac lets his head fall to rest on Scotts shoulder. Scott takes a deep breath and Isaac can feel his chest shift with it. 

 

“Isaac, I-” Scott starts, hesitant.

 

“Please don't” Isaac interrupts, doesn't want this. Needs this right now, this, right here. Is happy just to take this moment, wants to leave it untainted.

 

“No, listen to me” Scott places his hands on Isaacs arms, warm, firm and demanding his attention. As if Isaac could be focused on anything else right now?

 

In fact, Isaac is so distracted that his wolf notices the signs before he does. His shoulders tense, he shifts without meaning to moments before the wind changes. Carrying with it the faint tendrils of a distant scream and scent of fear. Beneath him Scott tenses as well. They share a wide eyed look of sheer panic. Something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong. They scramble to their feet, clutching and helping each other up and throw themselves into motion, racing back in the direction of the scream, back towards the Hale house. A howl rips from Scott's throat beside him, answering calls from the rest of the pack close behind them. 

 

All he can think of is getting back, cursing the distance. His feet pound across the soft earth that just stretches out forever before him. No matter how hard how fast he pushes his muscles he just won't be there soon enough. He is quite sure that was Lydia's scream and his mind helpfully supplies him with a multitude of horrifying situations she could have found herself in. If anything has hurt her, anything at all, he will rip it to bloody shreds with nothing but his teeth. He'll enjoy it too. Scott is pulling out in front, the others hot on their heels as they crash through the underbrush. This is taking too long. He feels the desperate need rippling through all of them, the need to protect their own, protect the pack. Jackson's fear is an almost palpable black oppressive blanket behind him. He hates himself for leaving them behind, leaving them at all without anyone to watch over them. Their more delicate humans deserve better. (Later he will realise this is his wolf talking, if he ever described Lydia as delicate and fragile to her face he would get a punch right on the nose) Why didn't he stay? Dammit, why didn't he stay?!

 

There is another loud angry howl as Derek catches up to them, keeping pace beside Scott as they skid through the final line of trees and out into the clearing in front of the mansion. 

 

Stiles and Lydia are clutching each other on the top of the stairs.They both smell of distress, tears pungent as they stream down their cheeks, eyes red, adrenaline bright and sharp in their veins. Derek skids to a stop in front of them, hackles raised. Isaac and Scott take fighting stance at the alpha's side, claws and fangs drawn. Jackson lets his momentum carry him onward until he slams right into Lydia, wrapping his arms around her, snatching her from Stiles arms and crowding her back against the wall of the house. His hands are a flurry all over her body, checking to make sure she is uninjured, hands either side of her face she assures him she fine through her tears and he wraps her tightly back in his arms putting his body between her and the threat before them. Stiles looks like he is contemplating joining Isaac and Scott beside Derek, but Jackson grabs the back of his hoodie and draws him backwards. Lydia reaches out and pulls Stiles back to her. This time, he does not fight in her grip. Danny finally breaks the tree line, a little slower than the rest, unused of his power, the sudden tension not helping his control, he is starting to shake violently but takes his place beside them, shaking his head clear. 

 

In front of them, sneering and smug and radiating power is another, larger pack. They're bunched together, leaning on each other in a show of nonchalance that honestly is ruined by their predatory air that hangs over them like a bad smell. They smirk with bright eyes and long claws. Their alpha steps forward, blonde and tall and beautiful but the smell of crazy on her is so thick he could cut it with a knife. The look in her eyes reminds him a little of Peter in some of his worse moments, a look that seeks only entertainment, mindless of cost and other people, revelling in pain and blood and fear. Her left hand is fisted in the matted blond hair of a battered body that she drags forward with her. She drops it down in Derek's direction. Derek flinches. There is only the slightest hint of a groan from the young girl, then she is still. His heart goes out to her, beatings have left her with a face more bruise than anything else, arms bent at unusual, painful angles.

 

“We found something of yours Hale!” the alpha hollers with wide spread arms, a grin shared with her pack, a chuckle running through their ranks. Derek is snarling, teeth barred and crouched ready to fly into action. 

 

On the ground the body moves, still alive, but just, barely just, he can hardly hear her heartbeat. She manages to turn her head in Isaac's directions and through the bruising, the swelling and the blood she meets his eye. Brown eyes, so dark and familiar he feels the air just rush out of him. Like a punch to the gut. He gets it now. Understands Derek's flinch. Stiles and Lydia's tears, the scream. Why Stiles looks like it's killing him to stay still. Despite his heightened senses, they had realised what he had missed. They got it. The body in front of them. Bleeding out onto Derek's driveway. So disfigured he had not recognised her, but it's her. Oh god, it's definitely her.... _Erica._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can not even begin to tell you the trouble this chapter gave me. I've re-written it three times, but I need to move on so it's getting posted how it is, even though I'm not particularly happy with it.


	6. I Waited For Your Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac waited. He hoped. Now, Erica is back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for such a long break between chapters guys! Everything kind of went to hell, my laptop utterly died and I lost all my progress, then I had to go down to Melbourne for a few months to look after my step mum whilst she went through cancer treatment. Anyway, here is the next installment.

Isaac had never been one to be bothered by hospitals. Unlike Stiles or Scott, he hasn’t enough experience with them to form a strong opinion. He could barely remember the time before his mothers’ passing, but the time after that was full of small injuries, bruises and cuts that could not easily be explained to a doctor. Joining the pack meant having to accept the whole accelerated healing factor would be a sticking factor for most medical professionals.

 

Deaton had become the go-to guy and it had happened without much discussion at all. Late one evening the vet had discovered Scott rifling through the veterinary centres medical supplies with one hand and holding his leg together with the other. Deaton had levelled Scott with glare dry enough to put the Sahara to shame, and steered him to sit in a chair. The vet had stitched Scott back together as he rambled about wild hogs and how they were _not_ as sweet as Disney movies would have you believe. Something in this story had stuck with Isaac when it had been recounted later over the xbox. So when he shattered a windowpane and drove a shard straight through his palm he knew where to go. He had told the others of Deatons careful, if brisk manner and That was That. Deaton suddenly had a place on all of their speed dials, and barring Derek (who would set his own bones if he had to, heaven forbid he accept help from someone) they had all been to the vet at one point or another.

 

The vet was kind. He set bones and stitched wounds with soft words and careful hands. Pain meds didn't work on any of them (accelerated healing factors and heightened metabolisms or whatever), but Deaton had such a way of working on each of them, talking and manipulating them with such panache than more often than not the worst of it would be over before they even noticed. 

 

So here Isaac found himself. Waiting in the cramped but tidy waiting room of the clinic. The smell of bleach harsh on his nose and blood worked deep in the lines of his palms. Stiles and Lydia flank him on either side, warm and human and alive. They've been waiting for hours that feel like days. Lydia has listed sideways until her head rests on his shoulder, her breathing slow and even. He dismisses the idea of waking her to save her from a crick in the neck. The bags under her eyes speak volumes about how little she has been sleeping lately. Dreams still haunt them.

 

Isaac and Lydia share a pair of headphones, the base thrumming in his ear. It’s something poppy and kind of shrill that he doesn't recognise. She didn't bother trying to talk to him when they arrived, just sat next to him, shoved it in his ear and cranked the volume up. She must have been sick of watching him twitch in time to the sound of life saving machinery in the other room. Isaacs head is dizzyingly light, his eyes gritty and body numb and he can't help but wonder, if not for Lydia's head on his shoulder if he would just float away. 

 

**********************

_  
Erica. He tries to call out to her, but his jaw has jammed itself shut and all that escapes is a breathy gasp. One look at the new pack is enough to tell Isaac now is a very bad time to seem weak. There are more of them and they don't carry themselves as if they've just dropped in for a visit._

_He is smart enough to keep his head high, shoves his shoulders back and doesn't say a word, just focuses his attention on the little things. The colour of Erica's hair. Focus on that Isaac. Her Hair. He used to tease her and tell her she was such a bottle blonde even though it was natural (to which, she would take as permission to punch him and they would fall into play fighting, which lead into wrestling, which led to.....well, other things) but truly loved her hair. It was always soft and smelled like her shampoo (lemons, her shampoo smelled of lemons). Isaac would wait until she was asleep beside him to tangle his fingers in her hair then let it run through his fingers like sand. That's what he decided it was, her hair, the colour of fine sand after rain. Of course, he'd felt creepy as hell every time he enjoyed one of those quiet moments. Who does that? Creepy sleep stalkers that's who._

_.... It's not fine sand now though, its dirt brown. Old blood brown. Just **Focus**. Her heart beat. Focus on her heartbeat._

_**Thump.** _

__

_**Thump** _

__

_**Thump  
** _

_Derek shifts back, as whilst his alpha form is intimidating, it is not designed for communication. There is a shimmer to the air and then Derek is standing before them, naked as the day he was born. A small distracted part of Isaac marvels at the manner in which Derek can still be commanding even whilst stark naked. It's probably something to do with his ridiculous abs.  
 ****_

_**Thump** _

__

_**Thump** _

__

_**Thump  
** _

_Derek starts what can only be described as a negotiation. There is a lot of snarling and what Isaac is going to guess is unresolved sexual tension. Derek knows this lady._

_**  
Thump** _

__

_****'Why are you here.....'_

**_Thump_ **

_Thump_

_Isaac tunes out most of the conversation. He gets a little lost in the shallow rise and fall of Erica's chest for a little while. His own chest aches in sympathy. His focus sharpens to the point of a needle when Erica stops breathing for a long moment. Scott and Jackson's heads whip around in horror too. They still, eyes wide, waiting on baited breath until she sucks in a ragged, rattling gasp. They exhale as one._

****

__**  
**Thump  
  
'The Hale Pack used to **be** something Derek....' 

****

****

_Thump_

_'......A couple of pups? And some damaged humans? That does not a pack make, brother'_  
 **  
**Thump

__

_**Thump  
** _

_He snaps back to himself as Derek starts retreating, slowly but taking care to never give the enemy his back. Derek's eyes flick over all of them. It's the look he gets whilst doing a headcount, making sure his own are all accounted for. Isaac catches Derek doing it occasionally when the pack are together. He supposes the alpha in him likes to know where they all are, gets restless if one of them is out of reach for any extended period. (Stiles calls it his 'mother hen face', checking his ducklings are all ok. Isaac pointed out hens don't have ducklings, they have chicks. They both then shut up as Derek pulled up in his car and it's better for all involved if the alpha remains blissfully unaware of the whole conversation.) When level with them he gestures one hand at the house and orders quietly._

_“Get inside”_

_Isaac starts towards Erica, ready to bring her inside too. Derek slaps a hand against his chest that stops him in his tracks. Isaac finds himself staring down stupidly, then blinking, wide eyed and confused up at his alpha. His brain doesn't seem to be running quite as quickly as it should because he doesn't seem to understand what's going on._

_**  
Thump** _

_****_

_“Get inside” Derek repeats quietly. Stiles opens the front door and ushers Danny in front of him, Jackson practically carries Lydia across the threshold. Derek obviously plans to go and get Erica himself, which is fine if he wants to be the Prince Charming or whatever cause the alpha lady freaks Isaac right out and Isaac is happy to stay far, far away from her. He makes it up two stairs before the alpha calls out taunting._

_****_

_**Thump** _

__

_**Thump  
** _

_“Forget something?” She gives Erica a swift kick with her pointed leather boot. Erica doesn't even groan, which worries Isaac more than anything. A course cry flies from him before he even realised he's opened his mouth._

__**  
**Thump  


_Derek really should take up acting because the nonchalance he pulls over himself like a blanket as he shrugs a shoulder and looks mildly bored is amazing._

_“What? A random omega? Not our problem”_

_The female Alpha snarls, obviously not the response she was searching for, opens her mouth to retort but Derek has already pushed Isaac up the stairs into the house and Scott slips in behind them slams the front door behind them.  
 **Thum-**_

_......_

_…..._

_Derek and Scott are ready for him, between him and the handle before he can even turn. Scott raises his hands, as if to placate him. Muscles of his arms shifting smoothly beneath his skin. It seems like the most natural thing in the world to come up swinging. Smooth connection and the crunch of bone. He is outnumbered and outgunned but Isaac makes them fight for every inch they get him away from that damn door._

_….._

_…..._

_He snarls and spits and carries on. Wants to wail at the sheer injustice of it all. She's pack! They're supposed to care about her! They look after each other, that's what pack is supposed to mean. A small nasty corner of his heart points out he was always waiting for the proof this pack thing was too good to be true. He's been waiting for it all to fall apart because the hard fact is, that's what happens around him._ This is why we cant have nice things. _He makes a vicious swipe that would have taken out Derek's eyes if it had connected. The bastard. He's supposed to look after them. He doesn't even care._

_Derek ducks but comes up with a nasty right hook that sends Isaac reeling. Next thing he knows Derek has an arm jammed against his throat, hard enough to make his eyes water. His back pressed hard against the wall, the force of it pushing him up onto his toes. Derek leans in, eyes red until they're almost nose to nose. The alpha is panting slightly, and his harsh breath stirs Isaac's hair. Derek's eyes are narrowed, furious, but there is something else there too when he hisses._

_“Stop this, stop this **now** ”_

_Isaac's traitorous body overrules his mind and his legs give out from under him. He is indignant, shooting Derek his most outraged glare from his spot sprawled on the floor. Derek, the jerk, doesn't even have the decency to look guilty._

_“You all just need to trust me” Derek says quietly, turning on the spot to meet all of their eyes, if just for a moment. “Just for a little while longer.”_

__  
*********************

Minute or hours or days later Deaton comes out from the back room. Then, because the alpha may not possess social skills or any concept of acceptable social behaviour, he does have impeccable timing, Derek sweeps through the front door at pretty much the same time. Scott is trailing behind him, face grim and bloody. Scotts eyes dart to him quickly, then away. Isaac doesn’t blame him, he would be angry too. Isaac knows he will feel guilty for Scott's broken nose later, but cannot seem to manage it right now.

 

Lydia, stands at his side, blinking blearily and holding one of his sleeves. 

 

Deaton gives a slight nod towards the back room. 

 

“Just one or two to start” He advises. Derek after a deep breath, stalks through into the back room. There is a long moment before Derek's voice carries back through the door.

 

“Isaac! Get in here”

 

Isaac jerks forward with a start, looks around at the others, they’re staring, expectant. Lydia raises an eyebrow and gives him a gentle push. 

 

*******************************************

 

The worst part is not how Erica’s slender delicate fingers are a mangled mess, crushed and skewed. Or, how under all the dirty clothes, despite Deaton’s best efforts and hours of work Erica’s body is covered in blood, sores, open wounds and grime. Her arms and legs are a mass of white bandages, slowly oozing red. A white sheet pulled up over her chest, the same. Her hair is a matted mess about her head, her eyes swollen mostly shut. The worst thing is the small whimpers that are escaping between her gritted teeth, her body shuddering as if its trying to shake itself apart. His eyes feel hot, prickly, his head suddenly heavier than ever. As if the weight sinking all the way through his body, into his feet until they’re too heavy to move. 

 

“She’s in a lot of pain” Deaton intones blandly as he ghosts in behind them.

 

Derek growls. Stalks over to the bed and leans in close to Erica's face. When he is thinking clearer Isaac is a little indignant Erica is recieving surgery on two tables that were designed for dogs.

 

 

“She doesn't smell right” Derek snaps.

 

Derek is right there is a strange scent to the air. A small sniff has him crinkling his nose. The sickly sweet smell rising off Erica does not agree with him. It's not right and sets his wolf **right** off. Hackles raising and the urge to growl and pull something to pieces rising strong and heady inside him. She smells like death. Like rot on living things. It's not right. Not right. His wolf echo's inside him. Focus. 

 

“No. They poisoned her” Deaton says mildly.

 

“Wolfsbane?” 

 

“No” Deaton answers “Different. It thins the blood, stops clotting. Slower, but no less fatal.”

 

“Antidote?”

 

“Yes, I've given her one. It's too soon to say if we caught it in time”

 

Derek runs a claw down the curve of Erica's shoulder. Frowning when he reaches a scar. He presses lightly on it, even in unconsciousness Erica whimpers at the touch. Isaac flinches but doesn't make any moves to stop him. Derek throws a questioning look to Deaton.

 

“Glass fragments. Shards and grounds. Pressed into the skin. A lot of them. Her healing factor allowed the skin to grow over them. They're cutting her up from the inside out” Deaton says with a sigh, sitting down in the chair in the corner and crossing his legs.

 

Derek growls again, snatching his hand back from Erica as if burnt. 

 

“Why don't you get them out?”

 

“I don't have the blood to keep pumping into her, she's haemorrhaging to fast to do anything more for the moment. I've put in a call to a friend. She's going to have to wait.” Deaton levels Derek with a look. Nods in Erica's direction. “She's in a lot of pain” he states pointedly. 

 

Derek doesn't answer. His eyes flick and meet Isaac's though. Isaac isn't sure what the alpha reads there but Derek seems to stele himself and takes a deep breath. Derek's hands snap out, one firmly gripping Erica's upper arm over a freshly stitched wound. When Erica doesn't respond he squeezes, hard. Erica lurches back into conciousness with a scream. Her scream quickly cuts off into whimpers but Derek doesn't let go. He turns Erica's face towards him.

 

“Erica? Erica!” Derek snaps, Erica has her eyes tightly shut, tears leaking down her cheeks. “Erica I need you to pay attention. Just for a minute”

 

Somehow, Erica manages to open her eyes and meet Dereks gaze. 

 

“I want to help you Erica, but I can only help if you are pack. Do you understand?”

 

Erica blinks slowly at him, eyes wide and confused. 

 

“I can take the pain away Erica, I can take it away, but only if come back to the pack.”

 

Erica blinks again. There is a sharpness there this time though.

 

“You have to come back to the pack. I can only help you if I'm your Alpha. Ok? Do you want back in?” Derek asks. Erica manages to jerk her head up and down once, Isaac thinks she must be in so much agony she would sign away her first born in that moment. 

 

Derek starts, face unsure for a moment before setting his shoulders and steps ginegerly forward. He places his hands gently as he can on Erica, one on her forehead, the other cradling her jaw gently. Lowers his face closer to her. A deep breath and as black lines wind up the alpha’s arms, Derek and Erica gasp in unison. Erica takes a deep shuddering breath, eyelids fluttering, her eyes roll back and she slips into unconsciousness. Derek groans, clenching his eyes shut, the black travels up under his shirt, spiralling up veins until they peak up under the neck of his collar and fade gently at the skin there. Derek bows his head under the strain, teeth clenched, every muscle drawn tight. Derek has to grab the edge of the table to steady himself, lest his legs give out from under him. Isaac does not move to help, he knows the gesture would not be appreciated.  Several shaky breaths later Derek stands under his own power, rubbing at his wrists. When he raises his head, the moment is gone and Derek is perfectly composed again. 

 

Isaac’s hands ache in sympathy, taking pain from others is not simple. Isaac finds it difficult in smaller animals. Still stuggles with an ill dog or cat. It would be impossible for him, or any of the other betas for that matter to help Erica at all. Obviously, even for an alpha it’s not a pleasant experience.

 

Isaac wants to say something, thank Derek. He had no obligation to Erica, knows his opinion. _A random Omega? Not our problem_...but Isaac does not know how to find the words. It must read on his face though cause when he catches his gaze, Derek briskly mutters.

 

“Was the least I could do” He takes a step to leave, then stops “I won’t be able to do that if she leaves again. You’ll tell her?” Derek doesn’t wait for a response. “We haven't found them yet.Found....him yet”

 

Derek runs a hand through his hair, looking about ten years older, the confrontation with the rival pack, the search for Boyd and trying to wrangle a new Beta are all obviously wearing on him, it's not likely any of them will be sleeping any time soon either. Derek looks as if he is about to say something, but thinks better of it and stalks out of the room. 

 

Isaac’s knees can't seem to take it anymore and he staggers back and lets himself fall down against the nearest wall. Deaton gives him and pitying look, then leaves the room. Isaac keeps his eyes on Erica, and sighs.

 

********************************************************

 

Time passes and Isaac must drift off because when he wakes is throwing someone up against the wall, fangs drawn, claws pressed to the soft skin under the jaw. He blinks. He's not totally sure what happened, he was watching over Erica, then there was someone over her.....

 

He has Lydia crowded into a corner, claws drawing pinpricks of blood at her throat. Lydia’s eyes are wide. She smells more of surprise than fear, and later, when he thinks on it, this trust makes him superbly happy. She places one hand on his chest and gives him a little push, to see if he will concede his ground. He doesn’t move, a statue, arms caging her against the wall. He bares his teeth and snaps. Lydia holds up the hairbrush gripped tightly in one hand. 

 

“I was just brushing her hair” He stares, confused. She sighs “I thought she might like it when she wakes up?.”

 

Isaac lets out a long exhale and rests his forehead against Lydia's. Her scent is warm and relaxing as he take a few deep breaths to try and calm himself. Her free hand coming up to tangle in his hair. He takes his hand from her neck and wraps it around her waist. A gentle, lazy embrace which she returns. She scratches softly at his nape and he has to resist the urge to sag into her arms and purr. 

 

Pushing away from the wall he shuffles to his spot against the wall and slumps back against it. 

 

Lydia moves back to Erica, movements slow and graceful. He appreciates it. Her eyes flick to him before she reaches out to resume brushing Erica's hair, he gives her a small nod. She gets to work with a delicate touch. He lets his head thunk against the brick and closes his eyes. 

 

********************

 

Lydia is gone when he comes to, but she has left her jacket spread over his legs. He groans, he doesn't know how long he was out for but the cold of the concrete has settled in his bones leaving him stiff and sore. He stretches and his spine pops deliciously. He isn’t sure what roused him, until he looks up and brown eyes stare back. Erica. Erica's eyes, open. Swollen and glassy, but lucid none the less.

 

With speed he did not know he possessed, he finds himself by her side. The sight of her looking up at him floods him with enough relief to almost take him out at the knees. He has to take a second to make sure his knees are not going to leave him in a slump on the floor (he has been sending rather a lot of time in a slump today, it's very peculiar). He so badly wants to touch, to hold her to him. He consoles himself with taking one of her smaller hands resting upon the sheet and cradling it gently between both of his own. Deaton has obviously been in again, all of her fingers are now splinted. The remains of her tattered clothes have been removed, leaving her in nothing but a thin sheet and bandages. Her hair fanning out on the pillow like a halo.Tears roll slowly from the corners of her eyes, he swipes them away with the pad of this thumb. She blinks at him, her eyes full of unknown emotion.

 

“Hi” she mouths, cringing slightly at the movement. He almost chokes on his tongue. 

 

He tilts his head slightly, eyes feeling hot again, blinks to clear his vision. Lifts her hand to his mouth and presses a gentle kiss to the soft, if still slightly grubby skin of Erica's palm. She's so cold. He sniffs. 

 

“You never called” he chides.

 

Erica gives a ragged chuckle, turn cough, which in turn leaves splatters of blood against his cheek. It’s easy to ignore. He soaks in the feeling of her skin against his. He could bath in the relief that's washing over him. He gingerly starts to rub her hands, careful of her fingers, trying to bring a little warmth back into them.

 

“Sorry.” she manages to rasp. He imagines her voice has been rather unused the last few months, she sounds not unlike a pack a day smoker. He would tell her not to talk, but she hates being told what to do, even by him. “Sorry. I’ve been busy” 

She manages to give him a wobbly grins through split lips and red teeth. 

He laughs and laughs and laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be more soon I promise! This just seemed like the right place to end the chapter. Next chapter Scott and Isaac sort their shit out.


	7. Lost Sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So obviously this story is no longer canon compliant. Which is sad, but hey, thats what I get for not finishing it before S3 came out right? Thanks for everyone who has stuck with me so far, have some Scott/Isaac goodness!

Erica's asleep for now, breathing easier after Derek's second visit not long ago. A bag of blood hangs above her that he is steadfastly ignoring because it doesn't smell right, not pack. He's been slowly but methodically running a damp cloth over Erica's clammy skin. Avoiding opens wounds and the IV in her hand. It's all he can do for her really. His wolf has curled up, contented for now in the corner of his mind. His hands have developed a tremor he cant seem to stop no matter how hard he tries. How long has he been here? How long since he slept in a proper bed and not propped up against a wall? He's not sure but the clothes Jackson had bought for him to shrug into at the vets office (perfectly co-ordinated, because it's _Jackson_ ) are now covered in dirt and smudges of blood. 

 

He's a little light headed, and just thinking that he really needs a shower when Lydia and Stiles sweep through the surgery room and bully him out to the car park. He's not totally sure how it happens. One moment he's staring down at Erica, his fingertips running over barely stitched together wounds, featherlight touches so she doesn't wake, then his hand is clasped in Lydia's and he's shuffling his feet, trailing after her. He's exhausted enough that he let himself be pushed into a car with little only a little fuss. Lydia, taking pity on him, swears to text him if anything happens. With his defences down and Stiles hovering at her shoulder, helping herd him along, chattering as he goes, Isaac has no hope of evading them. He ends up promising not to come back for at least 6 hours. 

 

With his forehead pressed up against the cool passenger side glass he can't help but chuckle weakly.

 

“What's funny?”

 

Isaac jumps so hard he whacks his head on the car roof. Its hadn't really occurred to him that someone would be driving him home. Scott is biting his lip and trying to to laugh at Isaac cursing and clutching his head. Isaac glares at him ruefully,

 

“Nothing”

 

Scott lets them fall into awkward silence.

 

*******************************

 

The trip back to his house is short and uneventful. Scott manhandles him out of the car, upstairs and into the bathroom. Scott disappears for a moment as Isaac gingerly peels off his clothes. His extended stay on the cold vet floor has done more to make him sore and sorry for himself than his scuffle with Scott and Derek. That said, it takes him five minutes just to just peel off his shirt, so there was a good chance his shoulder was dislocated when Derek enthusiastically introduced him to the wall. Scott ducks back in to leave a towel and change of clothes. They both ignore the fact Isaac is standing, slightly dazed, in nothing but his pants. 

Isaac ducks his head and waits until Scotts slips out again, listening to his soft foot falls down the hall before stripping down and getting into the shower. He rests his weight against the cool tile. The water is blissfully hot and washing away the grime and blood feels a little like redemption. He scrubs his skin raw. Erica is running through his mind, how could she not be? Erica, in such a bad way, possibly going to be alright now that Deaton pumped strangers blood and hours of time into her, into putting her back together. What of Boyd? How is he fairing against an alpha pack with no one to help him. The thought makes his stomach twist. He shuts of the shower and deliberately pushes Boyd out of his mind.

 

When he swipes the steam from the mirror, and cannot meet the gaze of his reflection. He runs a hand over the pale skin where Derek had caught him with his mean right hook. Nothing, no sign, all gone. His unbroken skin is unblemished as ever. With a sigh he throws his dirty clothes into the wash and shimmies into the track pants. They're the oldest ones he owns, well worn, slightly threadbare in the knees and a little ragged around the cuffs. He loves them, they sit low on his hips and are comfy as heck. Chest feeling heavy, foreboding, he heads back to his room, towel thrown around his shoulders, water trailing cold down his neck from his hair. 

 

Scott is waiting in his bed room, elbows on knees, staring intently at his hands. His head snaps up as Isaac enters. Isaac runs the towel through his hair for lack of something else to do with his hands. Scott looks like hell, he probably hasn't slept either. Unlike Isaac who has been playing demented guard dog, Scott has actually been working. Endless hours scouring the forest, exhaustion is plain upon his face. Scott is dirty, bloody even, encrusted in his nose and staining the neckline of his shirt.

 

“Do you want to have a shower whilst you're here?” Isaac turns to rifle through his drawers “ you can borrow some of my clothes, the shirts might be a little tight around the shoulders but apart from that they should be ok.”

 

“Can-uh-can we talk?” Scott asks, after dragging his eyes up to meet Isaac's. Isaac can't help but cringe.

 

He takes a seat next to Scott on the bed, body protesting at the motion. Though he is nervous, the pack scent of Scott beside him is soothing. Through the smell of sweat, stress and worry it is still quietly pleasing to have him nearby. 

 

Scott gives a polite cough, Isaac starts, it's quite possible he's been staring at Scott with a dazed expression for goodness knows how long....again. Isaac can feel his face heat but Scott is hiding a sheepish grin, so it's ok. He needs to get some sleep, he obviously tends to embarrass himself awfully whilst tired.

 

“We don't have to, really”

 

Scott grabs his wrist, hard, probably harder than intended. If Isaac were human it would hurt...would bruise. Isaac makes himself meet Scott's eye for the first time. Scott, as always, is wearing a painfully sincere expression.

 

“I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry”

 

Isaac swallows the sudden lump in his throat. 

 

“Scott-”

 

“I had no right to say that”

 

Scott loosens his grip a little but doesn't let go. Isaac gives him a slightly lopsided grin. He can hear Scott's heart pounding, it doesn't skip a beat. Isaac imagines he can feel Scott's fingerprints being seared into his wrist.

 

“Scott, it's ok.”

 

Scott stares at him for a long moment, frowning a little. 

 

“It was mean...and untrue” Scott ducks his head, but looks back up at Isaac through his eyelashes. His words unsure and a little bashful, “I kind of think the pack as family....all of us. The last few days have really made me appreciate what we have....what you guys all mean ..to me”

 

Isaac feels some of the tension drain away with the slightly possessive look on Scott's face. 

 

“Saying you had no-one was stupid”

 

“...you once threatened to punch me for saying stupid things” Isaac chuckles weakly, shrugging a shoulder. “So I think we're even?”

 

Scott tilts his head, Isaac gestures to his nose. Tentatively Isaac raises a hand to run the plane of Scott's throat, coming to rest at the blood stained and fraying edge of his t-shirt.

 

Scott's fingers stay wrapped around his wrist, moving with him, fingers pressing into his pulse points.

 

Like this, Isaac can feel Scott's pulse too as it flutters lightly under his palm. Dried blood that had missed Scott's cursory wash in the basin of Deaton's flakes off onto his fingers. Red-brown and the only sign left of their fight. He pulls back, presenting his hand in front of Scott's nose for his inspection. 

 

“I clocked you” Isaac winces “I think I broke your nose....Did it set ok?”

 

Scott doesn't say anything, staring at Isaac's fingertips with almost frightening intensity. Scott tugs on his hand, Isaacs' chest is suddenly tight, breath hitching in his throat. The pads of his fingers pulled close enough to Scotts mouth that he can feel the puffs of his breath. They ghost over his nerves, lighting them on fire. Scott is being gentle with him now, not so frantic, strength in check. He's almost treating Isaac as if he might spook at any minute. Isaac couldn't move even if he wanted to. Isaac never wants to move again. Ever. He could stay like this, this....whatever this is.

 

Scott's eyes flick up to his for a moment, whatever Scott reads there (permission? desperation?whatever...) he likes because he turns his attention back to Isaac's bloodied fingertips. Isaacs's heart is pounding but he takes solace in the fact Scott's is too. Being the sole focus of Scotts attention is...is exhilarating. Unlike Scott, Isaac has no dirt and blood and sweat to hide the desperate smell of arousal that is (despite his best effort _think of coach in the shower, coach in the shower_ ) suddenly rising off him. He takes a moment to internally curse track pants for being completely incapable of hiding anything, anything at all. Damn it, his own clothing, betraying him like that. 

 

That train of thought is quite quickly, and throughly derailed as Scott presses his lips to Isaac's fingers. It's not even a kiss, just a press of his lips to Isaacs skin. Isaac didn't think it was possible for his eyes to get wider. They must be about ready to pop out of his damn head. Scott's hot tongue slips gently out to lap at the pad of his finger, just for a moment. Just enough to reinforce in Isaac's mind, the existence of Scott's tongue. He can feel his entire face flush. It was such a short moment that if Isaac had not been watching intently, (determined to save this to memory to fuel every masturbatory fantasy he will ever have again, ever) he would have thought he imagined it. As is a strangled gasp escapes from his throat. Scott releases his hand and Isaac flounders. There is a long second that stretches out between them, staring at each other, both of them, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. Scott's pupils are so dilated the gold is almost hidden by black. Isaac is still, breathing hard but unsure of what to do.

 

Scott solves that problem. Transferring his grip to Isaac's hair, fingers curling in the damp strands, tugging Isaac down, breathing fast, crushing their lips together. Isaac freezes under the attention, managing only to get his hands to clutch at Scotts shirt. Fingers digging deep into the muscles in Scotts side, his breath lost in Scott's mouth. This is fire, and electricity and Isaac is burning and drowning all at once. Scott is going to consume him from the outside.

 

Oh god this is happening. This is actually happening...This is actually happening right? Oh, god, what if this isn't happening? What if he fell asleep in the shower like an idiot and this is a dream? He sends a thought to whatever God out there watches over werewolves to beg 'Oh, please don't let this be a dream' closely followed by 'if this is a dream, please don't let me wake up yet cause it is just starting to get good'. 

 

He briefly considers pinching himself but Scott, (as if sensing his preoccupation), after a surprisingly hard, bruising, frantic kiss, takes Isaac's lower lips between his own and _bites_. Isaac feels himself come alive at the sharp burst of pain, growling, hands, fingers, _claws_ sinking into the fabric of Scotts shirt and pulling. His mouth on fire with the tang of copper. Shining satisfaction as it rips, tearing like tissue paper under his hands. He keeps going, ignoring the way his hands shake until he can shrug the last bit of fabric from Scotts shoulders. 

 

Then they're both shirtless and Isaac is doing his very best to get his hands to be everywhere at once, trying to get as much skin to skin contact as possible. Not once does Scott let up, keeps pushing, on his self control, on any coherent thought Isaac could possibly hope to have. 

 

Skin, tan, smooth, scalding hot, more solid where Isaac is lean. He would be contented to have Scott against him, learning his body like this forever. His head a daze of pack scent, Scott, Scott, Scott, Scott and he moans it into Scott's mouth. Even to his own ears he sounds so desperate that if he had any coherency left he would be _mortified_. Then Scott's lips opens under his own and Scott is licking into his mouth. Isaac can do nothing but whimper as his already stupefied mind just short circuits right there. _Want_ , so much want running through his veins and his wolf simmers close under his skin now, awake and ready to claim _mine_. Isaac places a still shaking hand either side of Scotts narrow hips and **pulls**. Scott slides over easily easily, swinging a leg over either side of Isaac's hips, groaning as he spreads his weight across Isaac's lap. It's perfect. In this position, kneeling, Scott has a good few inches on him and uses a tight fistful of Isaac hair to tilt his chin up, baring his throat, keeping him there. Isaac traces his hands over the muscles in Scott's back. Down over the ridges of Scott's spine, across his shoulder blades. He's careful with his claws, making sure to only lighting drag them across tan skin. Scott shudders under his touch. 

 

He's pretty sure he's falling in love with kissing Scott, the taste of him, overlayed with the sharp bite of copper, Scotts or his own, it's not important. He's pretty sure it's been a while since either of them had a chance to brush their teeth too but he doesn't care. It's still good, its great, hell, it's _amazing_.

 

He slides his fingers in the gap between Scott's jeans and skin at the small of his back, sliding his hands around across warm skin to reach the front. As he undoes the top button, Scott pulls away with a gasp. Chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath, Scott stares down at him, going slowly from stunned to anxious. Isaac quickly pulls his hands back to more neutral territory. Settling on warm skin just above Scott's waist band.

 

“You ok?” Isaac murmurs up at him. Scott doesn't answer, untangles his hands from Isaac's hair to stare with mounting horror at his claws. “You can't hurt me” Isaac reassures him. Scott seems anything but placated though. Doesn't even seem to hear. Isaac leans into him, pressing his forehead against Scotts shoulder. Gives a gentle nudge, enjoying this closeness more than he should really, tries to get Scott's attention. Scott responds by shuffling off his lap, staggering over the remains of his shirt on the floor as he scuttles back across the room. Colour is draining from Scotts face as quickly as it had come, leaving him pale. Isaac raises an eyebrow at him, wrapping himself in nonchalance like it can hide the twisting beneath his ribcage. Scott covers his face with a hand for a long moment, breathing deep. Isaac give time, Scotts claws recede and when Scott turns to look at him with a shuddering breath, his eyes, if still dilated, are their normal brown. 

 

Scott shuffles further towards the open window, hands held out placating in front of him. Isaac, suddenly feeling more weary than ever, doesn't shift from his spot on the bed.

 

“I'm sorry. I just-I can't do this.” Scott manages to blurt out. Isaac just stares. Scott clenches and unclenches his fists at his sides. He looks like he wants to say more, mouth opening and closing helplessly, but cannot seem to find the words. Isaac doesn't move from his spot on the bed, too sore and exhausted to fight. Isaac can spot the moment Scott gives up, snaps his jaw shut with a harsh click of his teeth, turns and makes his exit. Doesn't even bother walking past Isaac to use the door, just goes straight out the window. Doesn't look back, doesn't even bother to collect the shredded remains of his shirt before legging it back to his car. Isaac stares at the vacant window for a good long time. 

 

“But you kissed me?” he mutters to no one in particular. He would think what had just happened was an exhaustion fuelled delusion but running his fingers over his lips find them swollen and tender. He's pretty sure everything he had ever imagined about getting with Scott, (and yes, he has thought about it, he's not ashamed to admit it) was never so vivid or.....enthusiastic. He had only ever seen Scott treat Alison as if she were made of porcelain, he had just assumed that would follow into other things too. Not that he wants or needs Scott to treat him like he is fragile, 'cause he is not. It's just, this Scott who was frantic and aggressive and just this side of rough was unexpected....Had Isaac done something wrong? Pushed too hard? Pushed the wrong buttons?

 

Isaac wishes he could be dramatic and say he lost sleep over it, but honestly he throws the remains of Scott's shirt out the window, slams it loud enough to rattle the pane, sealing his scent outside, collapses on his bed and is dead to the world before his head hits the pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry, I'm a terrible person.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who has commented and left kudos, you are seriously what got me through writing this chapter. Please, please please, I love to hear from you, you thoughts or crits or even if you are just enjoying it so far, it means so much to me :)
> 
> M


	8. I Love The Way You Blush For Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are looking bad and someone keeps changing Isaac's ringtone. Something's got to give.

Issac wakes to the shrill ringing of his mobile going off. Someone has changed it to 'Hungry Like the Wolf' for the third time this month and he has to suppress the urge to smash it against the wall. It's barely past six and Isaac is still sore and feeling rather sorry for himself. When he gets the phone to his ear it's Derek, who in his usual reticent way mutters,

“Meeting, get here” and hangs up. Isaac considers burying his head under his pillow but knows they're just as likely to come drag him out of the house still sleep mussed as they are to hold a meeting without him. With a groan he drags himself out of bed, pulls on a t-shirt from off the floor, wraps a scarf around his neck and calls it done. Sod it, he can be hobo chic today he doesn't care, at least he's comfy. Sculling juice straight from the carton, he stares forlornly at the coffee beans sitting in the fridge, craving caffeine but the milk smells old. He realizes he has been moping into his mostly empty fridge for at least a minute when a car horn bares from his driveway. He slips on a pair of shoes, sans socks cause he actually can not be bothered right now and slips out, locking the door behind him.

 

*******************************************

 

Lydia's sitting in Jackson's car, drumming her hands on the wheel, raises an eyebrow at him as he rearranges his scarf around his neck awkwardly in the passenger seat. She does not design to say anything, and just throws the car in reverse and backs down the driveway.

 

What follows is ten of the most stressful minutes of Isaac's life. Lydia drives like Jackson's car has personally insulted her. He's pretty sure Jackson is going to kill him when he finds the impressions he left on the arm rests. 

 

They arrive at the Hale house whole and unharmed. The site of the house, Stiles' car is out the front,  
and suddenly Isaac's heart has taken up residence in his throat. As if sensing that Isaac might need a little bit of help this morning, Lydia appears at his car door, opening it and holding out her hand for him. He gives her a weak smile and getting out of the car takes her hand, intertwining their fingers. 

 

Everyone else is there already, Lydia and Isaac take a spot on the couch next to Danny. Isaac resolutely tries not to look at Maccall, but sneaks one quick look to find him standing stoically behind Derek's armchair, a blush blooming across his face as he senses Isaac's gaze. Isaac feels a smug sense of satisfaction and turns his attention to Derek who is frantically pacing the room. 

 

He looks like hell, unlike the rest of them he doesn't appeared to have showered, or changed clothes, or even slept in the last few days. The strain is obviously wearing on him, lines deep around and under his eyes. Derek is caked with mud, but more worrying is the way his hands shake, fine, desperate tremors as if he is going to break himself apart. With a heavy sigh he throws himself into his armchair. 

 

“I owe you all an explanation” Derek mutters into the floorboards, elbows on knees, refusing to make eye contact with any of them. 

 

“Derek-” Stiles begins to say.

 

“Please, just let me finish” Derek snaps, then gives a weary sigh. Isaac can almost hear Stiles jaw snap shut, he looks vaguely hurt. 

 

“I've-We've been looking for Boyd, but we haven't-. The pack...they're clever. They knew I'd be looking, that I couldn't help myself....”

 

Derek takes a deep breath.

 

“They're dangerous....that pack, more dangerous than any of you know. They're from the Old Ways.”

 

He looks up at them for the first time. Realizes he is getting nothing but confused looks.

 

“Old ways.....in a true pack, there are rules, traditions, ways of doing things. The old ways kept you safe, kept you secret. The Hale pack used to be like that, my mother....she-” Derek's voice breaks on the word. He squeezes his eyes shut for a long moment but can't continue, he switches tack.

 

“They guarded the secrets once, made sure we could stay hidden, but their leader, Celine.....she's gone wrong. I don't know what happened. I knew her parents once. I knew her! When we were kids...Her parents ran their pack like mine did, they were fair, just. It's turned into some sort of power trip. …..I made some calls” Derek runs a hand through his hair, gripping it, looks ready to pull it out straight from the roots “They've been leaving a bloody trail all over the damn country. Passing judgment on packs, mainly smaller ones, if they're not keeping strict adherence to the old ways, they slaughter the entire community, alpha, betas...doesn't matter the age...I heard the last pack had kids and …” Derek's voice catches.

 

Stiles is making a small noise of distress and Macall looks ready to reach out to touch Derek to try and comfort him.

 

“I'm-....I wasn't born for this, you understand?” Derek catches Isaac's eye for the first time, his eyes red but bright with emotion. “This was my mothers job, next in succession was supposed to be Laura” Derek sucks in a shaky breath “She was trained for it, spent years being mentored by my mother....but they’re gone and it's just me now.”

 

“I barely know the laws. I mean I know the basics, but it's not even written down anywhere and I can't think of anyone I could ask apart from Peter and well-”

 

“That's why you wouldn't let us go to Erica? Isn't it?” Isaac asks, pity swelling in his chest for Derek who has been doing this by himself for so long. Derek shoots him a grateful look, Isaac ignores the fact his composure is slipping.

 

“I was never taught all the rules, but the alpha has to be strong....I couldn't be seen taking back a rouge omega, like it was no big deal... you need to understand-”

 

“I get it Derek...I do-we do” Isaac says, gesturing round the room. Stiles, eyes wide, nods minutely, but everyone else just stares. 

 

“You had to look strong” Danny murmurs. 

 

“I thought I wanted this” Derek's voice sounds on the edge of breaking “I thought I did. But I can't even keep a bunch of high schoolers safe. I can't....” The couch creaks under the strain from Derek's gripping the arm rests. 

 

Stiles is the first of them to move. Slowly, and with the weird determine grace that only Stilinski's seem to have, he kneels by Derek's chair, shuffling close enough to pry his fingers under Derek's, stubbornly pulling each finger from the couch until he can grip Derek by the hand with strength belighing his body to wrench him to his feet. 

 

Stiles narrows his eyes at Derek's pale clammy face. 

 

“When did you last eat?” Stiles snaps

 

“Uh....” 

 

“Yeah, that's what I thought” Stiles starts to walk towards the bathroom. “Lydia?”  
Stiles doesn't pull on Derek's hand, just completely assumes the alpha will just follow. Which he does, almost meekly. Lydia jumps up, heading to the kitchen.

 

“Toast?”

 

“That'll do” Stiles calls over his shoulder. Isaac peers around the corner to watch Stiles bully Derek into the bathroom. “Seriously, take these off, they smell, you smell, you're gonna get in the shower and wash the gross off you or I swear I'm going to mountain ash you in this bathroom until you don't look like you rolled in something”

 

“Stiles” Derek grumbles, not actually putting up much of a protest as Stiles starts yanking at his jacket as in indication he should start to get undressed. 

 

“Don't even start Derek, you're going to shower, eat some damn toast and then because this entire pack seems incapable of maintaining their own sleep schedules,( Isaac flinches) you are going to be in a bed with eyes closed for at least four hours, this is not negotiable so help me god I will do something drastic”

 

Derek seem to shrink in on himself a little as Stiles rips his shirt off over the top of his head, points meaningfully at the shower and slams the door behind him. Stiles stalks back down the hall into the lounge, Lydia trailing after him.

 

Stiles waits until he can hear the water running, dusting of his hands before-

 

“Right...Does anyone have any idea what to do now? I only got as far as the 'trying to make Derek look less like he wants to throw himself off a bridge' part of the plan”

 

“We should probably just call that part A” Isaac says.

 

“Yes, thank you Isaac” 

 

“We have to find Boyd” Scott snaps, arms crossed.

 

“Yeah, we've been looking Macall, don't know if you've noticed, but we haven't had much luck”  
Jackson snarls stepping forward, Lydia places a hand on his arm, the gesture is small but he leans back out of Scott's space.

 

“We need to try something else then!”

 

“If you have any ideas feel free to share them with the group!”

 

Scott throws his hands up, practically growling.

 

“I don't know Jackson! We have to do something, if I have to listen to one more call mocking us, I'm going to murder something!”

 

“Well if you-”

 

“Stop.” 

 

There is silence as Lydia's no nonsense tone strips right through them. She walks right up to Scott, placing her hands on his chest. 

 

“What did you say?”

 

“She's mocking us, and I can't-”

 

She presses a finger to his lips, quieting him. Scott almost goes cross eyed trying to look at the offending digit. 

 

“No. No, you said 'call'”

 

Danny stands up, apparently catching on, eyes wide, coming to Lydia's side. 

 

Scott finally pulls away from Lydia's hand. 

 

“Yeah....” Scott is starting to look unsure now “she, calls...to let Derek know what they're doing to Boyd....what they're gonna do to...us...”

 

Lydia and Danny are staring now,

 

“You guys are staring now and its weirding me out a little. What did I say?”

Stiles catches on, gasps, throwing his hands up.

 

“Oh!” Stiles yells, “yes!” he races down the hall, slamming the door of the bathroom open, ignoring Derek's yelp of protest. He returns moments later with Derek's mobile. He thrusts it into Lydia's waiting hands. Danny pulls his laptop out of his pack. The three huddle around it, Danny's frantic typing is layered by their hushed conversation.

 

“Uh....can we get an update for the slower people please?” Isaac says.

 

“She's called Derek” Lydia smiles up at him

“Uh...yes?”

 

“So if we are lucky, and very very clever-”

 

“-which we are” Danny interjects. 

 

“Then we can use her next call to triangulate where she is calling from. Namely, where they are keeping Boyd”

 

“Are we using technology to beat werewolves? Cause I think we are and it's the best thing ever” Stiles is practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as he perches over Danny's shoulder.

 

“Beat? Excuse me, we haven't beaten anyone, you have maybe found to maybe find them” Jackson sniffs, arms crossed. He shoots a perplexed look Isaac's way. “And by them I mean a larger, stronger pack who we can't hope to go up against. Cause, you know, the death”

 

Stiles stares at Jackson for a long moment.

 

“Is Jackson being the voice of reason right now? Is that a thing that's happening? Cause I think exhaustion may be getting to me, someone pinch me”

 

Lydia obliges, and whilst everyone is distracted by Stile squawking, Jackson takes another sneaky sidestep to sidle up to Isaac. Leaning over he sniffs again, crinkling up his nose.

“Dude, you smell weird”

Realization clicks and Isaac can feel the blood rushing to his face, he hadn't bothered to change his clothes from last night. He must still smell like Scott, and...whatever it was that happened last night and Scott has obviously overheard that cause his face is turning beet red again. 

 

“Uh....old washing” 

 

Jackson screws up his face, stepping out of Isaac's space.

 

“Gross”

 

Derek chooses that moment to pad out into the lounge, still dripping wet with naught but a towel around his waist, chowing down onto what looks to be Lydia's forgotten, extremely burnt toast. 

 

“Stiles, give me back my damn phone, we've had this talk about boundaries before” He snaps, spraying blackened crumbs everywhere.  
Isaac hides his grin as it takes Danny, Lydia and Stiles a moment to process the image of Derek's wet, ridiculous body. Then inspiration hits him. For the first time in days Isaac feels hope. 

 

“Lydia, I need your phone” He lets the grin spread wide across his face, feral and toothy. “I have a plan”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically your comments are the only thing that got this chapter done. So this one is for you guys <3 I'm so sorry I'm so bad at updating. *hides back in her hermit cave*


End file.
